FUD: Fear/Uncertainty/Doubt

Why I am nervous. November 12, 2006

On Friday I got a letter confirming my assessment date for the College of Education 2007 intake. It’s not a simple process, and it’s making me jumpy.

First, I’ve spent the past few months taking classes which will earn me the Certificate of Supporting Children’s Learning, a level-four qualification. (For the Americans here, an Associate’s Degree is equivalent here to level five.) The idea behind achieving the certificate is to give me easy entry to the college’s teaching programme next year — I have a patchy educational background and although I have a proven academic record, I have no piece of paper to show for my work. I will finish the last class for the CertSCL in February.

I recently sent in my application to enrol at the College of Education for the Bachelor of Teaching and Learning (Primary) programme, aka the BTchLn. I adore that acronym. Completing the degree will give me all the qualification I need to be a school teacher in NZ and many other countries. The application included a police clearance check, two four-page written questionnaires to be completed by friends or acquaintances, and a personal statement. I wasn’t allowed to see the references which meant they had to be mailed in separately, so I spent some time harassing the two people who were kind enough to fill in some very complicated papers.

Once all the paperwork was received, I got my assessment date, which is this coming Wednesday. I have a panel interview with two other applicants in front of (probably) three people. Fifteen minutes before the interview begins we will be given three of the questions we’ll be asked, so we have some time to prepare. Ha.

Preceding the interview is a visit to a primary school where I choose a picture book from a pre-vetted pile to read to a class. This probably worries me more than the interview. I have to engage the children and get and keep their attention. I have to remember that they’re not my kids and therefore slapping them around if they talk during storytime is not acceptable. Maybe I’ll write a note to myself in big letters on my hand — DO NOT WHACK THE CHILDREN — and then I’ll have something to discuss with the staff in the panel interview.

First word! November 11, 2006

First word!

Originally uploaded by tracicle.

Ethan wrote a whole word that wasn’t his own name. He was stamping stars on his generic-brand Magna Doodle and asked me to write “Star” for him. “No way,” says I, “Do it yourself!” So he asked how to spell it, and I told him, and he painstakingly wrote the whole word.

The S looks pointy because he learned to write it from Superman’s logo. And I don’t know who taught him to write capital A and R — not me! — but wow. A thing of beauty and I hugged him and told him how proud I was, and we took photos and you can see how pleased he was with himself.

Honestly, wasn’t it only, like, last month he was born?

A blue day. November 10, 2006

I love the smell of bipartisanship in the morning. Smells like victory!

I feel light at heart, young, giddy even. I may have to skip a little bit next time I check the mail. Because over here, ten thousand kilometres away from it all, safely distanced from the utter insanity that has ensued in the US since September 11, 2001, it does actually feel, even a tiny bit, like things might just be better.

We were living in Santa Cruz when Bush was elected. Neither of us had the right to vote, being residents for tax purposes only and, you know, because of those drug smuggling charges. I was in San Francisco staying at a shoddy hotel above a middle-eastern restaurant with nightly belly dancing, attending an anthropology conference at the nearby Hiatt or Hilton or something with an H. I spent election night sequestered in my room, talking angrily to Mike on my cellphone as results came in, changed, concessions were made, and then I went to sleep after much frustrated tossing and turning. That was fine, everyone thought, we’ll just suffer through four years of spoilt rich Texan offspring and elect Hilary or something.

Then, of course, September 11, followed by insanity. As H1 visa holders, we felt like we could be legally evicted from the country for tying our shoes the wrong way. I had to stop using cheap Mexican labourers to import my fine Columbia cocaine, because the repercussions? There were some. Wow.

And now? Maybe a little balance. I don’t ask for a drastic swing back to the left, but I’ll be happy with middle ground. Live and let live, yo.

(This rambling pseudo-intellectual political post brought to you by my camera’s flat batteries, because I can’t download photos until tomorrow. Man! Cursed much?)

Oh, hi. November 9, 2006

Why yes, I certainly can come up with a list of excuses for not posting daily. Dammit, I thought I’d learned not to make promises I can’t keep. Anyway, here:

November 1: Assignment due. Recovery followed.

November 2: I POSTED! Did you see?!

November 3: Have you noticed that the word November looks funny if you look at it for too long?

November 4: I was in a different town. Where the internet consists of empty fruit-salad cans strung together with fencing wire.

November 5: I was eating ribeye steak cooked by the guy who cooks your airline meals. Except when he cooks for people at approximately sea level, it isn’t microwave-awesome but real-awesome.

November 6: There is no 6.

November 7: Uh, I think I had…a thing. Important.

November 8: Cheese sandwich.

November 9: That’s today! Look! A post!

I have been taking photos like you would not believe. I tried to be artistic at the wedding on the weekend, but free bubbly meant I ended up with a camera full of blurry flashless shots of noses and empty wine bottles and also? a hangover for the first time in ever. Too ashamed to post.

Happy NaNoBloMo!

Ramping up the vamp November 2, 2006

This weekend we are packing up the sprogs and heading north to Blenheim to attend Mike’s cousin’s wedding. At a winery. I will not be held responsible for my own behaviour.

In preparation for the wedding, I am painting my nails red. Very, very red. Ethan was astonished at my left hand (I can’t paint my own right hand) and said, “What a beautiful hand, Mum.” Amy spent ten minutes sitting on my knee turning my thumb over and staring, hypnotised, at the redness.

Ethan finally asked if I could paint his nails red too. So now he has a beautiful set of red toenails and matching fingernails. He says they look “lovely”.

***

Yes, November started yesterday. I know. I know. I had three assignments due this week, two on Monday and one yesterday. Yesterday we launched a three-pronged attack on the Teachers’ College library in which Ethan picked random kids’ books off the shelves and made a stack a foot high to take home, Amy raided students’ backpacks for loot, and I tried to herd what seemed like a flock of rabid cats in a large echoey space. Somehow I didn’t get banned from the college, but maybe I should have waited until my acceptance letter for next year arrives.