Things I Never Want to See People Do In Public…or Ever.

I realise that many of my blog posts take on the format of a list, so I will be trying to revisit my grade six education and rock the persuasive letter.

Dear Strangers,

I am writing you in an attempt to dissuade you from continuing the following behaviours in public, semi-public, or even in the privacy of your own homes. It is my aim for you to fully comprehend the level of disgust I reach when witnessing these behaviours which in turn will impact your actions.

The following are non-negotiable actions; nose-picking/blowing, eating on public transport, and couples arguing. Actions up for debate and consultation; sneezing, loud open-mouth coughing, and groups of teenagers.

As we are in the midst of cold season, several times in the past week I have had to bear witness to even the politest of strangers, blow their nose on the train. A tissue is not a shield. In fact, it is thinner than paper. The act of "blowing" with a tissue actually draws my eye much as a cape would to a bull. I am also finding that said blowing, is usually followed by a "pick-to-clear-out" act. We all see you. None of us want to. Please politely sniffle silently until you can remove yourself from the group. Nose picking is similar to nose blowing, however there is not even the false pretense of a shield. I recommend we cull these individuals, as clearly they have not been successfully integrated into society and it is likely they never will be rehabilitated. 

We all know we have to eat. However, when people feel compelled to do this on a jostling locomotive, others can be put off. Further, if the food has an odour in an area where there should not be, a rage begins to brew. Food is completely necessary, but only in contexts which have been deemed socially acceptable. Early morning train journeys are one such example of an unacceptable context. Please keep your odours and food splashes away from the rest of us.

Next, in pairs, arguing is inevitable. Becoming upset with someone over something in public is also very likely. What people  therefore see as the completely acceptable "public argument" is not. We all already hate you because you have found someone who has chosen to spend their life or some future, with you. Let's not make it worse by biting the hand that feeds you. It's similar to eating a feast in front of someone starving then sending the food away because it's overcooked. Also, I am unsure if you know this, but no matter who is in the right, no one looks like a good person when fighting in public. In fact, you both look like spiteful individuals. Mob mentality therefore sparks, and the evil inside us all just wants to egg you on until a punch is thrown. You might even hear a faceless stranger from the back of the crowd pipe up, "are you going to let him talk to you like that?" A commonly known statistic that I am sure you are aware of is, "arguments in public are escalated 1000% more times than that of those instigated and resolved at home." It's basic math and also common sense.

Now these are just a few issues that cannot be contested, so please refrain from doing them immediately. The following are issues that you may want to contact me about for future discussion. I doubt you'll gain any footing, but god speed.

98% of the time, people are ugly when sneezing. All sneezes can be minimised through a simple pinching of the nose. It seems like an obvious answer. 

Did you know coughing is contagious? I read an article about "germs" the other day and it was mind-blowing. Apparently, these invisible things can fly from your mouth into the air and be breathed in by others around you. I have found in my own personal experience that the louder and more aggressive the cough, the more ill you actually are. It is still up for debate, and I am willing to hear your opinions on why we should not be covering our loud coughs in public but again, seems hard to contest. 

Finally, groups of teenagers should not be allowed to congregate. This is up for discussion as I know peer groups are very important to youth to keep them from drugs, alcohol and bad choices, however I am still just not sure. Sometimes it is hard for me to digest two teens speaking around me about their non-issues, let allow 4+ running riot on my train to work. The more of them there are in an area, the louder and ruder they seem to become. Let me know your thoughts.

In conclusion, a rare combination of science, statistics, and social facts has been presented in this letter in hopes that you have a revelation in your lifestyle. I am certain I have myself once been a perpetrator, however when presented with similar facts at the fresh age of seven by my family, I was able to make a change for the better. Let's all make the world a better place through small changes.

Regards,

Katie Fraser-Thomas
Concerned Citizen

Juice Master

About three weeks ago, I started the Juice Master Diet Cleanse. It is a complete juice detox that lasted seven days. To all you that say this isn't healthy…shut up. Let me also say that if you knew what I had been eating leading up to this detox, you wouldn't think it's nearly as bad.

In the book it suggests that you might feel some side effects in the first few days of the cleanse i.e. headaches, stomachaches, or crying in the shower. The biggest mini struggle I had to deal with is cravings. You have no idea how many different kinds of restaurants and foods you smell during a day while walking around, until you are starving.

At school, we have to eat with the children in the dinner hall. When juicing, this is the ultimate test. I know that Jesus faced some hard times in the desert, but I would take those 40 days with a serpent over watching a fussy eater pick at their fish and chips. Several shouts of "YOU'RE NOT GOING TO EAT THAT?!?" could probably have been heard down the hall. The kids did find my juicing quite amusing as I had a strict schedule of when I had to choke down these life sustainers. Once, a particularly nasty one made me gag and do a full body quiver when I was leading a shared writing table. The children then asked to all have a sniff of what I was drinking. After about the sixth child, I thought, maybe this isn't such a good idea. They are breathing all their little kiddie germs straight into the toxic brew I need to swallow to stay alive.

Well after a week, I made it and had shed several pounds as well. I do recommend it to anyone as it was the best I had felt in a long time and you are guaranteed results after only 7 days. The best part is it is a lifestyle changer if you want it to be, so I have been able to maintain and continue to trim down even after coming off the strict cleanse. If you want to jumpstart a diet or a life change, look into Jason Vale, his books will degrade you just enough to get you motivated but not as much to make you want to eat your feelings.

Loved and Lost

I wanted to write a new post today about something that happened then I realised I hadn't written since August and I feel there is something I need to touch on before I can continue writing.

In April I moved in with the three greatest guys I have met in a long time...possibly ever. I consider myself extremely lucky to have been part of such a loving, dynamic and unique house. When I moved in, I was in a difficult place in my life and through their acceptance and humour, I made it through.

Now the time in the house has ended - visas changed, people moved away - but I am so grateful to them for bringing me back to life. The last six months have been some of the most important in my adult life. To them, it was probably just life as usual but to me, everything had changed.

I felt it was wrong to skip through that time to the next chapter before addressing my gratitude. I will probably never be that lucky again with flatmates again but I am so appreciative to have ever experienced it at all.

Love you 278 boys and seeeeyyyaaaahhhhh!
x

Getting Lost

Lexy lives in Pan's Labyrinth. I have never seen a more confusing layout for buildings that all look exactly the same and have nearly the same name.

Exhibit A:

So Lexy met me at the bus stop and escorted me back to her place. Whenever someone is leading me somewhere it is like I am a fresh-born kitten; eyes are closed to the world. Why don't I look around? Why don't I read a street sign??? I digress.

Anyhoo, I dropped my bag off at her place and lingered for about two seconds before she suggested I make a trip to the coast to see Howth. Lexy had a paper due in the next few days so we looked up on google maps how to walk to the train station so I could set off on the journey alone. I got a little lost on my way out, walking too far left and having to walk another 30 minutes to get back on track (using all my international mobile data up) but I made it in one piece.

Howth was lush. It was scenic, fun, lively and refreshing. You can walk along the piers and take in local fishermen bringing in their catches. I trundled around for a few solid hours before missioning back  to Lexy's. When I got off the train, I realised that I didn't reeeealllly know where I was going as I got lost on my way to the train in the first place. I also had 4% battery coming off of the train - not ideal.

Exhibit B:

I nearly made it too. I practically ran down Avoca Avenue so I could make it back to find out exactly where Lex lived. Then, the phone died. Again, why didn't I just have my eyes open when she walked me to hers earlier. Things would have been a lot simpler if I just happened to glance around once during my first arrival. Luckily she left me a text with one detail burned into my brain...apartment 5. I don't know if you've lived anywhere with anyone but a number alone is not enough information to get you to a destination. Five wasn't really cutting it for me. Also, if you were to stumble across the Linden Housing, you would quickly notice that each pocket of housing (all beginning with Linden of course), has subsections of house numbers - Linden Grove 1, Linden Grove 2, etc which then further go on to have apartments within those house. After a rough calculation, I discovered there were over 20 apartment 5s in the area. 

Like a creeper, I stalked through the area, looking in windows and whispering Lexy's name. I rang one number 5 and panicked when it rang 3 times so I scampered away. People had also begun to notice my eery presence as I was lurking pretty hard in some areas. One man full out stopped to double take what I was doing, so I quickly pulled out my dead phone and pretended to be texting someone and laughing at something I read...

I needed a plan and fast as the daylight hours were burning away. My only option was to sit in the middle of the cul-de-sac at the entrance of the housing area, in hopes Lex might stumble across me in the next few days. It wasn't REALLY that solid of a plan, but it was the best I could do. This is also about the time I realised I had gone all day consuming liquids and not releasing any. This sent me into a bit of a panic as I thought I would never be able to use a toilet again (as you do) and began to scout out bushes I could potentially utilise. 

After about 20 minutes, I heard from a window my name shouted in a shocked, echoey way "KATIE?" Yup, by chance, she looked out of her bedroom window, saw my stripey shirt and was astonished I was just lingering. What is more miraculous is that I found out later, Lex didn't even have her glasses on, so she just recognised the outfit and that's why she called out my name questioningly. 

Anyway, I ventured to her place and nearly hopped up and down from excitement.

I'm glad my friends think on the same wavelength as me and know the foolishness I am capable of. Had it been an acquaintance, I fear I would be squatting in a bush and making camp on the cul-de-sac.

Dubs Day 2 & 3

As I write this, I am sitting in a reading room in my B&B surrounded by animal heads and Jesus statues/paintings on decorative plates. The ambiance is heavy.

When I booked my first hostel, the woman accidentally double booked my room and notified me that she would not be holding my reservation as she gave it to someone else. That was the end of the email. She sent this the day before I was to arrive in Dublin. After some raging forceful intense interactions, she found me another B&B to stay at for 2 nights and upgraded my room at her place without charging me the difference.

At first I was bummed, having to repack all of my things and relocate to a further out area, however my new room is totally rad.
Things that make it awesome:
1. wood panelling - not just on certain walls, but the ceiling as well. I feel like I could go out and shoot a deer if I wanted to, which is what I am sure other people felt and is why the reading room is filled with heads.  #rustic
2. an ensuite bathroom - I've showered twice today because I can. We'll see what the next couple of hours brings me, maybe a third is in order.
3. curtains that blot out the sun to an extreme. My circadian rhythms are now completely in line and I am achieving higher melatonin production that I have in the last 5 years.
4. a comfy bed - the last B&B had a bed made from stuffing sharp metal objects and earth into its lining. My shoulder still hurts if I raise my arm above a 35 degree angle, not ideal.
5. A glorious backyard filled with greenery, flowers, and a flowing river - I am rocked to sleep each night by the wind through the trees and the waves on the pebbles. People pay A LOT for this scene and I'm lucky I didn't have to.

The move was somewhat seamless and before long I was on the streets of Dublin searching out historic landmarks. The only negative thing I will say about Ireland, and maybe it's just Dublin in particular, but it is as if everyone in Croydon decided to move to their own island and multiply at a very young age. If you aren't sure of the Croydon reference, google search chav, or even teenage pregnancy styles. The women look like leather bags and the men smell of booze, even the respectable-looking ones. If you are looking for love, and enjoy a matching crushed velvet Adidas tracksuit, you are in luck! There are no PS I Love You men in Dublin, probably because they have all moved to New York to be with the Hilary Swanks of the world.

Now, I brought this up because I brought a significant number of skirts on this trip, however the city is quite windy. I feel though, that this has been beneficial, as it has been my bottom flashing that has allowed me to melt into the culture without a hitch. Someone even asked me for directions to the castle today. I am pretty sure I led them the right way...

In Day 2, I toured St. Paul's Cathedral, Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin Castle, Trinity College and saw the Book of Kells. The Book of Kells was a surprise to me, as my flatmates and I tried to watch the animated movie of the same title last weekend but found the storyline a little lacking. We probably stuck it out to the halfway mark because we thought the animation was so beautiful, and the art design was completely unique. Who knew it was based on a real book, which is famous for it's art design and technique? If you did, pretend I knew as well and just glaze over the last few sentences.

Day 2 also ended/merged into Day 3 when Lexy messaged me to meet up for a few drinks. All night we kept asking each other, why haven't we bee drunk together before? It was one of the best bonding nights I've had in my life consisting of just ridiculous occurrences and unbelievable stories to forever reference in our friendship storyline. Although the men were creeps, our friend alcohol made us have a great time dancing and befriending some of the locals and fighting off the others.

What was not expected or welcomed was the morning after. When staying in a B&B, it's considered rude if you don't turn up to your breakfast, especially when you give the host your expected breakfast time. This meant that although I did not have much sleep, I had to roll out of bed to force down a greasy fry up. My stomach was already turning when my breakfast was served with a big black hair on top of the egg. Appalled that it was still being served to me, I queasily looked up at the woman for her to react. As she maintained eye contact, she simply plucked the hair off and walked away. Nothing quite screams bon appetite like a big black hair nestling into your meal and having someone's lumberjack hand punch the top of your over easy. MMMMmmmmm.

To say the least, today has not been a very adventurous or jam-packed day, but I did spend my time wandering the streets and seeing the National Art Gallery. Amidst all the paintings, I was fortunate enough to be surprised to find a piece by my very favourite artist Caravaggio. Normally a gallery would advertise having one of his pieces in their brochure or map as a gallery highlight, so when I surprise spotted it across the room I made a slight shriek to the pleasant (not) surprise of the old wrinklies around me. If you ever want to have your breath taken away by a painting, study a Caravaggio. His skill will make you realise you have absolutely no talent in your being and it is lucky that we even get to look at his.

Other than that, I am ready to return to my cottagey room as I think the deer's eyes keep following my gaze and I swear I saw Jesus just give me a once-over. Tomorrow I will be checking out of the B&B to move over to Lexy's place for the remainder of my journey. We'll see what tomorrow brings.

Wood panelled ceiling. Pure class.







Local Ryan Gosling. No big deal.

 The Taking of Christ.

 Atmosphere.

Dublin Day 1

Well...I'm in Dublin. Before I got here, there were some things to note.

1. I had to make a pilgrimage to Southend Airport. Correction - London Southend Airport. When I read this name when booking my plane ticket, all I saw was smaller numbers after the £ sign. And since the name LONDON was in front of it, I also foolishly thought this meant it was near by. It's not. Luckily summer holidays means I have nothing but t.i.m.e. The journey was also pretty simple, which I will give it to TFL this time because normally they are absolute rubbish. This will now bring our score to Katie -  3986 & TFL - 2. The other point TFL got was two years ago and was also a fluke.
2. Southend Airport is run by maaaaaaybe....I want to say....6 people. They didn't open the check-in desk until an hour before take off and after the 12 people on my flight checked in, the people behind the counter shut down and moved with us to the security point. I am also pretty sure I saw "Betty" get on board the flight with us and hand out duty free mags.
3. It looks like there are only 2 boarding gates, but in actuality there are 3. Be careful, there is no posting which gate you are to go to, only a 5 second audio announcement that can easily be missed if you are wearing headphones, like almost everyone on my flight. Lucky for my group, I was trying to navigate their impossible wifi system and had not yet been able to play Katy Perry's latest song through youtube for the millionth time.
4. On the plane, I sat in the "emergency exit zone." This meant on this plane (run by Aer Lingus, there's a joke in there somewhere) I had to learn HOW to use the emergency exit as everyone on the plane was dependent on me opening the door. Yes, I had to stand up with the flight attendant and practice opening the side door. I went along with it but there was no way in hell I was going to open that door for anyone on board in an emergency. Name me a circumstance when I would have to do that? I'm betting I would already be dead, or even better, force someone else to potentially be sucked through the gaping hole while the cabin attempts to equalise pressure.
5. I landed all sunshine and rainbows, excited to be off on my next adventure. No one else in Dublin is sunshine and anything. Really, it's a miracle I didn't get punched in the face the first time I asked for directions. Fortunately, I can read a map and I will state again, I have nothing but time. Sure my journey to the B&B was probably scenic and some might say drawn out, but I made it.
6. Lastly, every tour in Dublin wants to take you to where they filmed PS I Love You. This might give you the idea to rewatch PS I Love You. Alone. At night. While travelling alone. On your own. With no  one around but you. Don't do this. I might be charged extra for the number of tissues/toilet paper rolls I went through. It's also hard to sleep when you think you might be alone forever and even if you do meet the right person, they might just die and leave you a bunch of notes to reallllly rub it in that you will never see them again.

So I am off to the next adventure today with puffy eyes and raw emotions. Walking around the city and making friends as usual...
Check in tonight!

Summer Sleep Ins

So...I have the summer off.

Normally, I plan something BIG and deadly exciting to do. This summer, I decided to take it easy. I am getting to the age where doing nothing is seen as sloth or a waste because only kids read Nancy Drews until swim time, then look forward to a Indiana Jones marathon because it's the only channel your cottage gets. However, I declare this summer, the summer of spontaneous trips/jokes/lifestyle choices. 

Until very recently (and not by my own choice), my future plans were thrown out the window and I was at a loss. From an early age, I always had an idea of where my life was headed and what I was going to do (mentioned in previous life rants). Even though, looking back, my plans seemed fantastical or unrealistic, I still projected where I would be. I felt safe in the 5 year plan. I knew what I wanted and I tried to work for it. However, then life got me. Some a**hole (Woody Allen) once said "If you want to make god laugh, tell him your plans." Well, thanks for giving god the punchline and jinxing the rest of us to misery. My plans were irrevocably altered with no hope of ever regaining them. Some people might find this terrifying, as I did at first, but if embraced (with the help of your family/friends) it is a very liberating feeling. This was the first time in my life where not having a plan actually seemed ok. See, I am not a very "go-with-the-flow" kind of person. My mother would disagree because I had to tell her weeks in advance if I wanted a friend to stay over - not that there's anything wrong or weird about that - but my family likes to plan. If I waited on a Saturday night to decide what I was going to do, that drove her nuts. "What do you mean, you're not sure where you're going? Don't you WANT to do something?" As a teenager, I was a very close reflection of my mother in regards to plans, and this in turn stressed my free-flowing friends out.

Three people changed my life.

Alison - late for everything, last minute planner and thank god! She taught me the value of living in the now and if I wanted to do something so badly, to organise it myself. I, never wanting to organise, HAD to go with the flow. Making me much more willing to do anything with the right people. She also began to teach me this - it didn't matter WHAT we did, if we were all together, we would laugh. 

Amie - In university, this girl would call me up on a Saturday morning and say "I haven't seen the Jays play in a while...wanna road trip?" This wasn't for next week - it was for that afternoon. We didn't have tickets, we didn't have a place to stay, we essentially had nothing but we did it AND somehow we always pulled it off. Her ideas of trips often involved her car, even though she HATED driving it on the highway, myself and Alex, and one or more of the sigma chis. This summer I am referring to, will go down as one of the best in my life, only rivalled by the one I am having now.

M. McBride - Up until now, only little plans or small trips were left loose but McBride, now she was different. She was the queen of life flexibility and she completely changed my outlook. I met her in teacher's college and I remember hearing her talk about her travels and her complete openness to uprooting her life to have an adventure. Me "So you don't know WHERE you want to teach?" M "Wherever I find a job." This idea of being completely free, called to wherever you could work was unprecedented in my life. I know my parents wanted me to travel, but the idea of starting anywhere and doing it on my own, was a complete paradigm shift. If she could do it, could I? She is the reason I moved to England and the same reason why I might move anywhere in a year for my next job.

I lost focus here a bit.

This summer has been completely up in the air and even though you might tally up all that I've done (which isn't much) I feel it is one of my best yet. When your life goes through a thorough upheaval, you need to find yourself again. How often do you hang out with yourself? How often do you enjoy your OWN company? I can think of 4 times in my entire life where I remember having a blast with only myself...well that does seem slightly crazy when reading it. I don't mean telling a joke to yourself or acting out Macbeth in your pyjamas with your stuffed animals but just going on an adventure - big or small - and experiencing something. 

I might sleep in some days until 2 and go to art galleries for 8 hours but it's on my schedule and it's only things I want to do. Sure, I might go to Hungary next week for a bit, who knows? I could dance in my underwear to Tegan and Sara all day if the mood calls. All I need is a summer soundtrack, instagram, and my family on speed dial and life will be just fine great.

Morning Harlem Shakes

I like to give myself a little laugh in the morning. You see, our school starts earlier than any other school I have ever known to exist. 8:00 on the dot, kids pour into my class. Which means I have to get to work a whole lot earlier.

In preparation, the night before I always calculate how much time I'll need to get ready the next day. If I have an idea of the outfit I will wear, I can shave off two minutes from my "get-ready." A ponytail day? Surrrreee - seven minutes off hair time (you can see ponytail's are a favourable option for this reason...). Have a tan? Five minutes off concealer time. Sweet, I can basically roll out of bed and off to the j-o-b.

I do however, have a paranoia about sleeping through my alarm, which forces me to set 3 different alarms with very different musical settings to wake up to. This is where I get very creative in my wake ups - I like to give "Future Katie" a chuckle. Recently, I have programmed my phone to begin my alarm with the Harlem Shake, to then move into the Arrested Development Theme, to some Taylor Swift - any will do, they are so damn catchy and pleasant. The Harlem Shake usually gets a nice giggle in the morning, and depending on how many hours shut eye I got, I might even get up with my own version of the Shake.

I might even leave myself a note, because at this time in the morning, your body is completely disassociated from the person you were the night before. It's as if a stranger planned these things for you, which would be very considerate if someone did do this for me - concept also gets a chuckle.

I wonder what I will think of doing for Future Katie tomorrow. Which song shall I choose? Maybe the Carmen Sandiego theme? Perhaps a Teach Me How to Dougie Remix? It is great to wake up to a song that you know has a specific dance to it. Really gets the laughs in the mornings...


It's the little things folks.

Cheetos Fingers

As you may have gathered, I think children are adorable BUT they are also germ bags. Today put my gag reflex to the test.


It was a boy's birthday and his mum kindly brought in cake. It was meant to serve 15, so we were preeeetty proud we served it to 30. We had one leftover slice that was offered to me by my teaching partner. How kind.

The kindest moment is yet to come though. One of the boys in my class thought the cake was too far for me to reach across the whole 3 feet from the door to the office, so he scooped it up with his tiny, germ-ridden fist and passed it to me with expectant eyes. How kind times two. "Here Ms. Thomas, for you!"

Mmmmmm...delicious. His fingerprints were molded into the sides of the icing. I could clearly make out the indentations of the minuscule ridges from his thumb pad. What to do?

The plot thickens. This child was in after school club (yes this was after hours) and I had just sat with him chatting while he polished off his bag of Cheetos (in England they are called Wotsits - ugh). Now as you probably know, eating this particular type of food produces a layer of film along your snatching fingers called cheese scum. This of course occurs in whichever country you eat them and no matter the name - Cheetos, Wotsits, etc. You also probably know, that the only way to remove this layer is to either burn it off or commence the loud, wet, sucking actions which removes everything but the smell. I know, I know - gross.

I watched this whole process 3 minutes before he passed me my cake.

Now do I refuse the cake, no doubt offending the child and wasting a delicious piece? Or do I push through and try to choke it down with as much enjoyment as my twisting stomach will allow?

I went for it. He was staring up at me like Bambi in the forest, waiting to watch me really enjoy the cake he had already tried. To reference another Disney moment, it was comparable to Lady nosing a meatball toward the tramp in a back alley (none to far from our actual situation). This forced me to make a lot of "mmmm so good, thank you!!" and "mmm mmm tasty!" comments and loud eating noises to cover for my winching expression. He was very pleased with himself that he had done me a such a large and thoughtful "favour."

Needless to say I am not hungry for dinner as my stomach is still flip flopping.
Let us all also hope he didn't go to the toilet right before he ate his Wotsits...

Worry

I love my job.

I am pretty sure if you searched through my writings, you would be able to see this statement repeated many times. I don't love my job because I get summers off or I get to laugh at poo jokes (although, those are some perks) but I love it because of the kids. I know what it sounds like, before you say it to me later, I do know but it's true.

An older teaching mentor I had at my last school said, "I don't have any of my own children, but I have 30 adopted ones each year." It is true. People say teaching is rewarding and you feel like you are making a difference but I am not sure that is what drives me to love my job. Away from it all, looking back on children I have taught, I feel a sense of pride, sure.  I feel fulfilment from their progress and development during their time with me however when you are in the midst of it, you really are in the shit. I don't mean to parallel teaching 5 - 10 year olds with war, but isn't it? Let's be honest, every day I am in a battle. Crayons are flying around the room, children don't want to follow instructions, people are getting hit (by each other, not by me...), they are missing their families, and there are tears...lots of tears. I leave every day feeling like I have run a marathon, only to go home and think about what to do tomorrow.

The reason I say I don't think teaching feels rewarding when you are in the middle of a school year with a group is because you worry. You worry all the time. I can't imagine what it will be like to have my own children, who I can't send away at 3:30, to take a break until 8:00 the next day. I find it hard to comprehend worrying any more than I already do. Sometimes parents disagree with you as their child's teacher, which is fine (any parent reading this, I understand why you are upset and want to meet with me every day after school - this is not a criticism right now) but sometimes I just want to shout "I love your kid too! I am doing my best!"because I do love them, and I am certainly trying my best.

I try my best not so I can be the best or get an award from my head teacher but again, because I worry - always. Sometimes the worrying about them is so bad, I wake up in the middle of the night to text people (last year I was particularly worried about a bunch and an old TA friend received many a text about my anxieties). What I want to say to parents is:

You stay up late worrying your child will fall behind? I stay up late worrying about how I can prevent that. I stay up late examining APP grids, and ELGs and targets and curriculum maps to see where your child needs to go next and for EACH child under my care. My google search engine is filled with "books that are good for retells," "3D shape games" "practical money activities and resources" or maybe even "funny phonics raps." I worry that they don't have enough friends, or maybe they have the wrong friends. I worry that they aren't getting adding by counting on. I worry that they might not ever be able to take turns. I worry that they won't be able to cope as well with a teacher who has a different teaching style when they move up a grade next year. I worry where they will be in four years, six years, in high school. I worry that I am not doing enough, or maybe I am even pushing too hard. I worry they won't make their targets. I worry about WHY they won't make their targets. I worry that if they don't get something, it is because I am not being clear enough or I am not teaching it the best way possible. I worry I am failing. Now multiple your worries by 30 because I worry about all of them the same.

So yes, I worry too.

This is why you don't often have time as a teacher on a weekend or after school to feel rewarded or like you are out to do good. You are busy trying to keep your head above water, while 30 munchkins sit on your shoulders trying to stay afloat too. But I will say there are wow moments. Not always me feeling rewarded or good at what I do, but where a child really blows me away with something they do or say. Today one of my boys said to a little girl who was crying, "Don't worry, I missed my mum too but you will be ok. It's fun here, we will look after you," and gave her a tissue. Another girl looked at me while I was sitting at a focus table and said "Ms. Thomas, have you seen _____? I don't know where she could be?" Then she smiled and me and discretely pointed to her best friend "hiding" herself under an open-area table. "But Ms. Thomas, she must be somewhere, I just don't know where she is." All the while, the other little girl was blissfully giggling that she had fooled us all.

I might be worried about some smaller, more bureaucratic elements of teaching but we are shaping tiny humans and I have to remind myself they will be alright. That is why I love my job, because they make it easy to love what I do. They might not be able to double 7, but I hope from being with me they can laugh and they can be good people.


Fingers crossed.

I've Lived Here How Long?

In the hustle and bustle of London, it is easy to miss things and not quite understand everything around you. There are so many people, places, and stimuli that sometimes you tune things out. Big things. Things that are flashing into your face every single day. I'm coming up to 3 years in London and I have just discovered one of those things.

When I lived in Forest Hill, I bought weekly travel passes, so it didn't matter how often I travelled or what route I took to get there. Now, for all you bumpkins who experience the substandard transport of the TTC or maybe the glorious transport of owning your own car, it is a fixed rate, held on something called an Oyster card that you tap on sensors to get in and out of stations. However, since I have moved I no longer use a weekly travel card, but instead a pay as you go method, still loaded onto my Oyster.

Now enough of the nitty gritty - basically everyday I see a pink - not yellow- tap in sign during my journey. In fact, they are all over the place. Heaps of them, littered this way and that. BUT they are in the middle of a platform or off to the side so that you DO NOT need to tap them to  continue with your journey. This has of course led me to ignore them forever. Every single day I see the odd few people pull out their card and tap this little pink spot whilst trundling along to their next platform. Do I ever read the sign? No. Do I ever stop to think about what they are doing? No. Hmm. And to be honest, if it weren't that shiny, rich colour of pink, I probably would have continued to ignore it forever...but like the ferret I am, I was intrigued by it's appeal.

So I go home after a long day of work and realise once again the pink sign. I glance at it - "pay as you go travellers" - interesting. I walk around it - yes it does seem like something I should do. And I then...avoid it and continue walking. Well oh heck, I might as well google it when I get in.

Yup, it is exactly for me and my form of travel. Yup, it would be saving me bundles of money a week. Yup, I am a complete ostrich, moving my way through life with my head in the sand. What I WAS paying for a week of travel - £40. What I SHOULD be paying a week, doing the exact same route just tapping the G.D. fuchsia sign - £19. Smeh, what's money?






Everything is the answer you're looking for. Everything.


Here it is - easy to miss right? No.

The Caterpillar and the Tadpole

Today I read THE most horrifying book to the children, unintentionally of course.

The story was called The Tadpole's Promise. It starts with a tadpole and a caterpillar falling madly in love from looking at each other through a pond. Very sweet, though I knew from the beginning it was going to be doomed as they would never be in each other's worlds #GoldenCompass. BUT little did I know how tragic it really would turn out.

You see, normally I would do a prereading of every book I read to the kids but this was the first day back after holiday and things were going a bit crazy. I just asked a lovely boy to pick out a story before launching into reading it with full voices and actions, made up as I go.

The gist of the story was that the two fall in love and promise each other they will never change - you see how this is beginning to get risky. 1. both a tadpole and caterpillar are both very limited forms and 2. youth must mature.

Also, the caterpillar has a beautiful rainbow stripe down her side which the tadpole falls in love with and calls "his rainbow" BUT the caterpillar keeps coming to the pond and discovering her lover has once again changed and she is heartbroken. When the tadpole begins to grow it's front legs, loses his tail, and has back legs, she announces this is the last straw and strops off in a hump. Eventually she comes to her senses but by now she has also changed. So she flies as a butterfly back to the pond to say she will always love the tadpole no matter how he changes, but this time she sees a frog. As she goes to fly in to ask the frog where the tadpole has gone...he leaps up and swallows the butterfly whole. The last line is "so the frog waited on his lilypad, always wondering where his rainbow went."

This is the point when the children began to scream. Not little shrieks, but full out Home Alone wails and it wasn't long before I realised I was screaming equally as loud with them. Not only do they not end up together, but he consumes her entirely and doesn't even know it!

Luckily there were no tears, only screams of disbelief and shock. Once the screams died down we did burst into a fit of giggles from being so caught off guard. I quickly moved on to a round of singing Che Che Koolay before dismissing them to free choice.

I can't wait for parent comments and questions tomorrow or my nightmares tonight.

Here is the worst:

Planned bedtime

I live with 3 guys. I enjoy it and much prefer it to living with 3 girls (no offence to 203). There is less drama and a lot less fuss, but there are some trade offs.

First of all, I take pride in my appearance...sometimes, most times, whatever. When I lived with girls, I didn't care who saw me without makeup/hair done etc, because they lived the same struggle as me. Night time was when the monsters came out. But living here, I always feel like guys are some superficial being with the IQ of a toaster. Of course they know we wear makeup. Of course they can probably predict what I look like without makeup - I am not Pamela Anderson, no one could predict that mess. But somehow this misconception of men's understanding has led me to planning my bedtime routines. When do I shower? When do I remove makeup? When does my hair get washed? When is it necessary to wear a bra? When do I really NEED to get out of my pjs? In 203, I remember a period of time where the girls and I wore pajamas all day, every day unless we absolutely had to change (which usually meant we were going some place fancier than a mall, because knowing us we were still in comfy clothes there too). Basically we could be the biggest dirt squirrels on the planet and none of the opposite sex/interested sex would know, because when we wanted to lure them in, we sorted ourselves out.
In my current situation, I leave my make up on as long as possible which is a change for me. I used to come home from work (around 6) and immediately take out my contacts and off came the makeup. Now, it's burning onto my skull until I know I can no longer keep my eyes open. Why, you might ask, do I need it on? Well...if anyone were to knock on my door, then I would need to look respectable. And in case you were wondering, no one ever does. That is, knock/come home when my makeup is on. The exact moment that they do is always approximately 7 minutes after I have removed all disguises. This leads me to hiding in my room, with the lights off, and headphones in. Great, that's healthy...not.

I also plan my shower routine, which usually involves lurking into the stall around 4:00 pm (when I get home now because I live so close to work) so that no one is around when I skulk back to my room with  my drowned rat hair. Who showers in the afternoon? Manual labourers and kindergardeners, is who.

It is a small price to pay for a drama-free and very entertaining household. So I will continue to linger like a cave troll during late nights. I am excited for my cousin Meg to join us soon and experience what I do. Hopefully united we will stand and stay in comfy clothes as long as we want! Huzzah!

50 Shades

When the book 50 Shades of Grey came out, I suddenly became a literary snob. Me - who enjoys a good Dan Brown novel, or most of the books sold at the HMV paying counter - I, became a highbrow book reader. I had to suppress my revolted face when people mentioned they were reading it. One time an acquaintance in passing, asked if I had read it. I responded with a cringe and sneered that I would never sink to that level, only for him to tell me he was just wondering my thoughts because his girlfriend was reading it. I lost a lot of would-be friends over this book. I had half a thought to write good ol' E. L. myself, telling her that her piece of trash book ruined perfectly good dinner dates and staff meetings because I could not contain my rage toward her "record-breaking book."

Then I read it.

Not just it, but all three.

In a row. Within five days.

People who know me well, know I am in a particularly low point in my life and I have found that this cycle tends to repeat itself on me. I think my life does this to simply remind me to be humble and try new things.

The book came to me in a whisper of a thought from months ago when visiting my friend Dub in Toronto. She nearly convinced me then to read it then, when she said that women she looked up to or thought were respectable at work, had told her to read it because they enjoyed it so much. Dub reads good books and even SHE was going to read it.

I had been trying to read Cloud Atlas during this particularly hard time in my life, when I realised I was retaining nothing. It was like trying to read Le Petit Prince in grade 11 French class, when the only phrase in French I could recognise at this point was "puis-je aller aux toilet." After trying to read maybe 30 pages of the Cloud Atlas, and only absorbing the first sentence, I knew something was off. I found myself staring at this supposedly intelligent piece of literature with only the muppets song, Manamana, replaying in my mind. This is a big warning sign for me. 30 pages in two weeks is bad. It's Karen-Thomas-reading-New-York bad.

It was then that I knew I needed to feed my brain complete and utter trash. I managed to look up the latest Clive Cussler book and even one of my old Nancy Drews about a hunt for a missing key to the room in a cabin on summer holidays, cleverly titled, Nancy Drew and the Hunt for a Missing Key to the Room in the Cabin on Summer Holidays. It was then that I saw it calling to me in the store one day on the way to work. The shining silver necktie against a dark black background, beckoning to me like the One Ring calling to Frodo, urging him to slip it onto his finger. I was sold. I also realised I'm glad I wasn't a hobbit in middle earth responsible for carrying the ring to its destruction, as I would put that ring on every time. Every. Single. Time.

I then bought the first book on my kindle to hide my secret shame away from the world.

Needless to say it captivated me and although I am ashamed to admit it, I cannot wait for her to write another book. I don't even mind that I turned bright red when I read it on the tube, or had to put the book down whenever someone under the age of 18 or over the age of 50 sat next to me. I could live with my crutch.

My only problem now is that I have finished the books but am not out of my low-time life phase. I have started Snow Falling On Cedars, but I am worried this might also take some brain power. If anyone has any suggestions as to what I might be able to rip through, please let me know. I am open to anything that will captivate and allow me to ignore real life as much as possible. Even if you have a great cereal box blurb, send it my way, I will chew through anything right now.

Anything.

Growing Up

All I wanted when I was younger was to be older. I remember saying at 10 with my cousin Megan, "let's pretend we're 17 and we are dating the Hanson brothers." Then as 17 got closer, my dreams kept getting pushed back. Daydreaming about being 20 and working in a music store, or dating someone famous or getting married and having kids by 23. Now I'm 25 but I haven't been able to wrap my mind around pushing dates back. I want to have kids before I'm 30. I want to own a house. I want to live near my family. I want to be established in my career. But here are the hiccups:
- If I want to have kids before I'm 30, I would like to be married. That means a wedding, which takes a year to plan. So even if I got engaged today I wouldn't be married until I am nearly 27. Then I don't want to have kids right away. I want to travel and see the world before mine becomes limited to my child's world. At the earliest we are looking at having a kid at 30. I want 4 children. So even if I have a baby every other year, I am looking at mid to late 30s.
-This entire plan also revolves around Mr. Right. Mr. Bond is great but we both have life goals that have to be met before we want to get married. So if that person wants to make other life goals, the plan is pushed back even further.
-Also it is unlikely at my age that I will date someone famous (besides Bond) or become famous. The cream of the crop is getting picked around what, 12 now? Yikes. I have expired...at 25. Womp womp.
- For careers - does anyone ever feel settled in theirs? I thought I would be killing it with teaching and be on the front cover of Education Weekly or Time Magazine. Nope. I still go day-by-day hoping not to say the wrong thing or scar my children for life.

Also, being nearer to 30 than 19 is a scary thought. I still think my Mum is 30, so the idea that she had me close to the age I am now makes me want to go back to the fetal position. I still identify myself as being a university student who lives a certain lifestyle, even though it has been a lonnnng time since I have come close to that way of living. I realized also that I have never learned or picked up on certain things. Things, I assumed that I would just somehow, one day know even though I have taken no steps toward learning them or gaining these skills in the meantime. I have compiled a list to fully round off my terrifying realizations.

1. Cooking - I can't do it. I always remember my Mum cooking these huge meals that were well-balanced and wholesome. I can cook 3 things and one of them is a salad.
2. Buying bananas - I can never get it right. When I want a banana, I go buy them realizing I have to wait a minimum of four days before they are the colour of my liking. I don't have that kind of foresight. I just go banana-less
3. Buying cards/presents on time - how do people do it months in advance or plan sending cards at the appropriate times. Even living in another country, which would hopefully make me think I need to send things even earlier, I can't. All of your Christmas cards will arrive in February. You're welcome.
4. Laundry - Every white shirt Bond has ever owned is now a bleak grey. When will I start seeing the value in sorting? If not at 25, then when???
5. Finances - I remember when I was in fourth year uni, my very conscientious friend Kaitlin had saved money her whole life to buy a house when she was older. She asked me how much I had saved. I hadn't. "That's for when I get older" was my actual response. Now I am older and none the wiser.
6. Hosting Dinner Parties - I realize this goes with cooking, but it also goes with owning a house, having friends where you live, and ultimately having a dining room/eating table. I don't even know how I would go about planning a meal for more than 2 people, let alone planning an actual time when a giant meal would be served. I never understood how people know when a meal will be cooked by. I mean, when it looks brown, I can eat it...right?
7. Math - who CAN do math? I saw a picture on the internet that described how I see math exactly. Here it is:

I am sure one day I will magically learn these things if I keep wishing for them when the digital clocks read 11:11 or when blowing out birthday candles. But now that I have told you...maybe my wishes won't come true. Nuts.

2013

With a New Year already started, I have made a few resolutions. One of them is to promise myself to write a blog entry at least once a week. I think writing puts me in a better frame of mind and helps me concentrate on what is really important in life - observational comedy. I am also hoping the blog will motivate me to get through my book list this year. I make a reading list at the beginning of every kind of "life change" or "new time" such as Christmas holiday, Summer holiday, New Year, etc. I almost never get through the list. As shown in an earlier post, most of the books on my new list are still there. I am drawn in by new British book covers and book recommendations. Poor Teacher Man has been on my list for almost a decade. So I have resolved to finish the books on my list before agreeing to read any news ones. 

So here it is, the 2013 book list:

Now I also have a list of Recommended books but they will not be added until this list is done. This list also does not include the books I receive monthly from my Book Group that must be read before the second Tuesday of every month. I am sure with my daily 2 hour commute that I should be able to smash this list. 

If you have any comments from reading any of these books or suggestions please feel free to comment! Better get reading!