Some teacherly advice to the fashion blind teenager...

Over the last three weeks I had time to do the most UNHEARD of thing: Park off, read a book, put my feet up, lie in the sun, and pretty much be a lazy slob who forgot to do her laundry until she had one sock, an old pair of paint splattered tracksuit pants, and a Spongebob t-shirt to wear... but I digress.

So, over that period I also had time to take some trips to the local shopping mall. Which was probably a bad idea as everywhere I looked, there were the heel-dragging adolescent zombies I was trying so desperately to avoid. But, what I did notice (between diving into random shops and hiding behind pillars from students) is the fashion, or should I say lack of, that these young societal misfits were wearing, or barely wearing as was the case.

Now, before you accuse me of being old fashioned, let it be known that I am still young, and have a rather large addiction to shopping at trendy stores, so much so that I do believe my boyfriend is a few purchases away from burning my store account cards and credit card to save me from wallowing in buyers remorse when the inevitable bills make their way to my pocket... But, when I think of fashion I think of clothes that are meant to make you look GOOD right??? I mean, call me crazy, but surely you want clothes that COMPLEMENT or improve your look??? Brace yourselves dear square eyed computer friends, I have some shocking news:

Fashion is dead.

*moment of silence*

So in order to try to reincarnate my wallet emptying friend, I have some tips for the teenagers of today, coming from someone who only really has your best interests at heart:

Tips for fashion dead zombie adolescents (otherwise more commonly known as teenagers):

1) Reverse butt cleavaged shorts:  Mini shorts don't look good on ANYONE. EVER. EVVVER. Those of you who have decided that mini skirts are slutty but hey, tiny shorts that could fit a 5 year old are more decent are sadly deluded. If you (Like any post-puberty female) have a butt, WHY WOULD YOU WANT IT TO HANG OUT SO WE CAN SEE IT??? Trust me, a pale butt hanging out of a pair of denims wobbling about is possible the worst image a guy could be left with. We all have cellulite, don't deny it, so for goodness sake, why the heck should we have to see it. Just buy some extra material and save yourself the embarrassment. Please.

2) I-just-woke-up-and-I-don't-care-about-fashion: Yeah. You're not fooling anyone. This whole messed up side pony or a bun that looks like your 2-year old sister was playing hairdresser on you is really not becoming... In fact you simply look like you've been in a convertible with the top down, I wouldn't be surprised if people start looking for bugs in that nest of yours. And who are you fooling? We all know you are trying to look as if you just threw your look together in 5min but that you actually took around 30min. And the whole boyfriend shirt over mini shorts so that you can't really see that you're wearing shorts? Come on. Do you LOOK in the mirror? Sleek and pretty girls, show that guy that you have a shower once in a while.

3) Tethering teens: So now tell me this. You go to a shopping mall. You have to walk around. It's a SHOPPING mall. So why in Gucci would you wear high heels?? High heels will never achieve to make you look older and more sophisticated if you are not. End of story.

4) Legging it: Let it be said here, once and for all. LEGGINGS ARE NOT A REPLACEMENT FOR JEANS. Not now, not EVER!!! I do not care if you have a supermodel figure, leggings are meant to be worn underneath other garments, not as a replacement for pants. Why would you want every lump and bump on display for all to see?? And fine, wear leggings, but then for goodness sake wear a shirt that at least covers your arse. And this new fashion of wearing tight crop tops and leggings? Ladies there is a reason why we left the 80s behind us, and you certainly aren't pulling it off near as well as they do.

5) Glasses=nerd=LOLI'MSOCOOL: I discovered something strange the other day. Glasses actually had a purpose other than fashion!!! Yeah you actually used to be able to wear them to help you see better!! Crazy stuff!! And I just thought they were meant to be big and goofy with plastic lenses so you can claim that you are sooooo cute and nerdy and stuff!!!! Like Oh em geeeee!!!! (facepalm).

6) OH my word, you're wearing a BRA! See-through tops. Hmmm. Great. I can see your bra. Shock. You're a woman who wears a bra. Never heard of this before. Not the LEAST bit trashy. Oh wait, your see-through top is neck high with a coller. That makes it SO much more classy. And you're wearing jeans. SOOOO classy. Love the bra, A cup? Yeah, I can see. Because your top. It's completely see-through. Like on purpose. You're DEFINITELY going to attract a decent guy with that who will totally treat you well. 

....... I rest my case.

And yes.... for every hormone blinded YOLO-controlled soul, there is a teenager out there who dresses decently, has pride in themselves and wants to actually flatter their pubescent bodies. And to those, I salute you. May you never fall victim to the clones and may you attract the decent fellows out there!!!

Don't even get me started on the male end of the species. Thank goodness my other half's generation was not infected by the neon, pants drooping, big cap, offensive shirt wearing goons that now plague our cities. 

And now my rant is done. Term three has begun. Thank-goodness my students wear regulation uniforms. 

Survival level: Term 2

Yep, that's right, I survived another term and am still mildly sane... well, my eye has stopped twitching when it spots teenagers so I guess that's a start.

Which means I am officially at my half way mark and if I don't end up in a lunatic asylum I may even throw a party...

So now three weeks of time off until the madness continues. 

Stay tuned folks,  this ain't over yet...

Oh the sweaty palms, the tired minds, the aching hands....

Yep, you may have guessed it, it's exam time!!! (ie. Time of the red pen)

This feels like a holiday, no students to teach, no set times to obey, just an endless sea of marking that threatens to engulf your very soul until you dream of ticks and crosses... 

Cough... anyway...

I remember what it was like; the long days of studying, being stuffed into a hall with your peers, having to write fast enough to finish the papers, getting annoyed with the snifflers and the pen tappers... and lastly, the annoying teachers who pace up and down staring at you....

Yeah, and now I've become one.

Thing is, we never stopped to think how BORING it was for those teachers! Imagine it, being stuck looking after 100 or so girls who are writing a paper with absolutely NOTHING to do except walk up and down the rows making sure they aren't cheating. 

So, having been given the task of invigilator for the first time in my life, I have been compiling a list of interesting things for teachers to do during the long hour sessions of walking up and down watching desperate souls frantically scribbling their future on to pages of infinity...

So here is my list of 15 tried and tested things to do while invigilating! (Warning, some of these only work if you are invigilating alone)
 
1.  Count the bricks on the walls.
2.  If there are no bricks, count the amount of cracks you can find.
3.  Sing all the lyrics you know in your head.
4.  Imagine different music videos to these songs.
5.  Write mental poetry.
6.  Make a mental grocery list. If this fails, plan ahead for Christmas.
7.  Compare how many girls have ponytails, plaits, buns, or some other creative hairstyes.
8.  Count how many pens there are in the entire venue.
9.  Plan your outfit for the next week.
10. Practise your model walk.
11. Go through exit strategies if a zombie apocalypse occurs.
12. Count how many times a girl tucks her hair behind her ear.
13. Stare at each student until they look up at you, reward them points based on how long it takes.
14. Imagine how awesome it would be if the whole venue leaped up and broke out dancing.
15. Go to the back of the room and pull faces and do weird dance moves where the students can't see you, if one turns around act perfectly normal.

 

"When I was your age blah blah blah..."

I have a confession.

No I'm not an alcoholic.

Well... okay, yes, I have resorted to a glass of wine every now and then while marking.

Only one, and only in desperation.

Okay that one time it was two, but if you had read some of those answers you would've finished that bottle!! 

But back to my confession:

When I was in school, my peers and I would roll our eyes anytime a teacher would say "You know, in MY day, we never had cellphone etc etc blah blah fishpaste", and I always vowed I'd never become like that.

And yet, at the ripe old age of 23, I find my teenaged sponges just so DIFFERENT...  In my school days we certainly didn't have smartphones, camera phones which slid open would be the coolest of the cool. We certainly didn't like male popstars that look like overgrown babies (not mentioning names here... cough...) or skip school to watch their concerts. We would've been caught dead in neon see-through shirts and shorts that were designed to make half your butt fall out. We actually knew how to use the dewy decimal system in the library and projects weren't just copied and pasted off the net.

But my students know nothing of this life. And I feel the urgent need to remind them of a time when life wasn't all Blackberrys and Ipads. 

So, I confess, I found myself the other day musing out loud: "You know girls, back when I was in school, we didn't have half the things you did, Facebook was only invented when I was almost out of high school!", in response a very sweet, quiet girl in the front row pipes up: "Wow miss, you must really be OLD!"

Sigh.

I think I'll go back to my knitting.      

Teenagers... That pretty much sums it up...

I have come to the epic conclusion that if you ever want to become a model/actress/perfectionist/grammer nazi/comedian/organiser/counsellor/mediator/Yoda.... become a high school teacher.

You have to imagine it, we are on view, everyday, to a class of 30 odd children who scrutinise our every move, from the clothes we wear, to the one word that we spell wrong on the board. My students have decided that it is their calling in life to tell me exactly WHAT they love about what I wear each day, and what they DON'T like ("Seriously Miss, are those shoes COMFORTABLE?" "Um, yeah" "Ohhh, okay, I guess if they're comfortable it doesn't matter if they don't match"... OUCH), so much so that in the morning I no longer think 'Hmmm, what would I like to wear today', instead I find myself asking 'what can my kids find wrong in my outfit'.

 I may just start wearing really outrageous outfits to work, merely to see what they will say... You never know, I could set the newest fashion trend... Or they'll send me straight to the nearest mental institution... At the rate I'm going, I may end up there sooner than I thought.

 I must say, it can be a rather big ego boost, but I'm not there to be their personal model. But hey, anything to distract their hormone crazed minds from the actual lesson! Greek gods forbid that we actually do WORK for once!!  The shock, the horror of it all, that we actually go to school to LEARN!! Whatever will they think of next!! *swoooooooon*

No one ever said this job would be easy, but boy do I get some good laughs out of it.  

Survival level: Term 1

So I did it, I survived through the first term. On the last day of school, I bid my students farewell, the normal "have a great holiday, be safe blah blah blah..." What I really wanted to do was surf on the desks, swing from the ceiling fans, screaming "I'M FREEEEE, FREE I TELL YOU, WOHOOOOOO!!!!!" But that may have been slightly inappropriate. Instead I allowed myself a relatively silent fistpump the moment the last scuffed shoe and slumped posture had exited the door. 

I have a feeling my students are under the impression that I actually didn't WANT to see them leave, in fact, one even said "don't miss us too bad miss, we'll be back soon", and hinted that they might bump into me at the local mall and that I MUST say hello!

So while I'm sipping my sparkling wine, eating Easter chocolate, lazing outside with a good book,  sleeping in til late, watching movies whenever I want and generally being a slob... I'll find time to toast a glass towards those dear students of mine... And I'll try my UTMOST not to miss them....

Dreams of ditches, Shakespeare and cats...

I used to have this joke with my friends at university. Every time things got a bit mad, and I started freaking out convinced I would either fail or have a nervous breakdown, I used to say that one day they will find me in a ditch, clutching homeless cats, and reciting Shakespeare. My version of a crazy cat lady. And we'd all laugh and they'd convince me that if that happened they would visit me, even going so far as to point out suitable ditches for me at the side of the road (I am now starting to wonder if this was more than just harmless jest, maybe they actually WANTED to get rid of me. Hah.). In any case, I landed up a teacher.

I am starting to find that ditch mighty appealing.

 LO class, grade 10. Going through the South African Bill of Human Rights.  Cue attitude-I-don't-give-a-damn-life-should-revolve-around-me student:

"Miss, if I have the right to an education, and its my right, then surely that means if I choose NOT to do homework, then that's my choice and you shouldn't be able to punish me? Its not like homework helps us anyway".

And people wonder why I don't want to have kids and bring them up in todays society.

I sincerely wished I could have gone into Shakespeare mode and dramatically pointed to her going: "OUT OUT DAMNED SPOT, OUT I SAY!!!!" and sent her scurrying out my classroom, never to be seen from or heard again.

But I'm afraid that may have been grounds for the school to fire me.... hmmm...

Anyone know of a good ditch?

Oh woe is me...

To mark or not to mark

That is the question

To suffer the grammar and spelling

Of outrageous answers

Or to take pen to the seas of paper

And by marking, finish them. 

To eat, to sleep, no more

And by sleep to say we end the long nights of

endless red pen...

Tis a possibility devoutly to be wished...

To eat, to sleep, perchance to dream,

ay, theres the rub, for in that sleep there

would be no failures and stupidity 

of students who shuffle through the mortal land of school.

As you may be able to tell.... I have a sea of marking... An endless torrent of work that never ends... my red pen is reaching it's end and I fear it's funeral is around the corner... Alas... Oh woe is me... 

I need coffee. Stat. 

        

Wait... I said WHAT?

LO lesson... aka sex education (as if teenagers these days actually need it...)

So there's me, long day, trying to talk 18 year olds out of having sex....

"Ladies, if you fall pregnant now, how many of you actually believe that the man will stick around? He's 18, he has a future, he doesn't want to stick around and take care of a baby. No ways. He will go off to varsity, his life ahead of him... and you will be stuck looking after a baby. Then ladies, you are screwed. Literally and figuratively..."

<silence>

<class erupts into laughter>

Sometimes I worry about myself... Am I really good for these kids?? The other day I caught myself speaking in memes... (yes, I know, the horror of it all). We were reading a play which had the word "arse" in it which my girls found hilarious. I informed them that since they all SHOULD have one, they should be able to say it without giggling. And then, in my best American accent I went, "Dat ASS, whooo!".... I thought I said it to myself... apparently... I didn't...

Note to self: Do not spend weekends procrastinating on 9gag when you should be marking... Only leads to jokes that only you find funny.

Most commonly asked question...

"Miss, MISS!"
"Yes?"
"Are you married miss?"
<silence>
"Listen to what you just said..."
"Wha... oh. Miss. Right."
<silence>
"But wait, MISS, you have a ring on your finger!"
"It's on my RIGHT hand girls..."
"Does that mean you're engaged???"



Sometimes... a face palm is the only adequate response.    

Idiosyncrasies...

I have discovered that I have a favourite red pen. Don't ask me what makes it special (and no, I haven't named it), but when I find myself faced with a mountain of marking, I search for my trusty friend, and cannot possibly mark effectively without it. All the other red pens in my collection seem inferior in comparison, and their ink not near as bright and cheerful, especially when circling a fail mark on a paper. In fact, when I do it with my special pen I almost feel like humming and even do it with a bit of a flourish! Oh, it just fits in my hand so well, and ticks with such ease. I don't know what I'm going to do when it runs out. Perhaps hold a funeral around the waste paper bin... 

I also seem to be addicted to giving stars. I know I'm dealing with teenagers here, but putting a star on one of their tests almost makes me break out into delighted giggling. In fact, sometimes I go mad and put TWO stars on the paper! Its crazy, I know, I'm just a daredevil like that. Maybe its the shock that one of them can actually get an A that sends me into this silver and pink shaped celestial madness, who knows.

 I've heard you can now get red pens that are erasable and if you put them in the deepfreeze, the original writing comes back. I feel like a kid whose just been told that you can now get candy that never runs out. Out with the age of correctional fluid! I need to get me one of those pens!!!

The laminator... my new best friend...

I used to believe I was kind of cool... well... sort of... to my friends at least... well... okay, in MY mind I was cool. I used to have a life! Or at least I thought I did, some people can't quite call shopping a life, but hey, it kept me happy.

And then, I became, a teacher.

Now, instead of gorgeous clothes and the latest fashions, I find the object of my true fascination and delight... Burt!!

And no ladies, he's not some cute photo copy boy we ladies perve over in the staff-room.

And even if he was, my boyfriend may be reading this.

Nope, Burt is none other than my laminator.

Yep, you read that right, my laminator.

What is it, about this sleek, silver, hot machine that makes it so utterly irresistible to teachers? The moment when he takes the plastic sheeted document from your hands and molds it together, so seamlessly, so effortlessly, and makes it so shiny and durable that you just can't help but give him every single piece of paper that you can possible find? He soothes my troubled nerves, he is a kind of zen machine, I feel calm knowing my papers are safe with him and they cannot be torn by some ruthless, hormone crazed adolescent. 

I've heard that this fascination is quite normal. I fear my boyfriend and family believes I have lost my mind.

The Journey Begins....

I always thought the stage would be my home. And so it became. I left school to persue my dream of the arts, and studied a degree in Drama and Performance. And I revelled in its splendour until a rather nasty reality call in the form of graduation hit me. I was an actress, yes. Was I any good? Debatable. In any case, I knew that I had to find a different stage. And in a moment of inspiration (I am starting to believe it was more like deluded desperation and the need for a car that didn't break down every 2kms), I decided that being a teacher would be a SPLENDID job, and surely the pleasure of educating young minds would far outweigh the rather meagre salary... 

I am starting to believe I watched too many movies about young American teachers changing their delinquent students and becoming their lifelong heroes. Robin Williams and Hilary Swank sure made it look easy.

In any case,  I became a drama teacher, and by some strange twist of fortune, a LO teacher as well. (For non South Africans, its a class where kids get to learn about life and get given marks. In theory. In reality however, its a place for them to talk about sex and use up the lesson trying to distract the teacher from actually going through the textbook). And in a moment of madness I believed a high school teacher would suit me best. Apart from the fact I still look like I'm 18 and meant to be in class, I felt I could relate to them better then any screeching midget.

Three months in, I'm starting to question how sane I really was when deciding this.

And so, before the masses of hormonal, screeching female teenagers at the all-girls high school I teach at consume me... I felt I better record my days. Just in case they're in need of evidence when they find me huddled in the corner, fetal position, clutching my Complete Works of William Shakespeare and an apple, rocking back and forth, muttering: "it would be rewarding, they said... you'll love it, they said.... you're smarter than them, they said.... why... whyyyyyy"........