Reports

Report writing for a teacher has to one of the most frustrating times of the year. You're tired, irritated, and handcuffed by the educational-if-well-intentioned-double-speak-tautologically-euphemistically-worded-euphemisms that frankly no longer even make sense to me. 

The modern day report is much like writing a personal ad. You simply cannot write what you mean, because it doesn't mean what you write. She writes good sense of humour, you read unattractive; she writes adventurous, you're dating the whore of Babylon. Voluptuous: book the steakhouse.  Men seek people people their mental age and desperately infer they give a monkeys about personality. 

45 but looks eg acts younger good looking male seeks 18 yr old female with no personality for afternoon on couch playing Wii and maybe more?       

But enough personal ads from teachers, back to reports. Write an honest report and believe me, it'll be highlighted and back on your desk/inbox/pigeon hole with your wrist slapped worse than if you said 'brainstorm'.   

 

Read what is not there, that's the trick. So allow me, fellow teachers, browsing students and nervous parents to translate what's going on when you get your termlys reminders of who's who. Here's your glossary:

'chatty' = abusive

'energetic' = violent

'hard working' = I once received a piece of homework

'has potential' = does not have potential, but behaviour is dreadful

'able to improvise and think on his feet' = the school dealer, guaranteed

'unfocused' = multiple personalities, probably due to long term addiction to crack

'very focused' = psychopath

'he has some boundary issues' = physical assualt: matter of time  

'she has some boundary issues' = sexual harassment: matter of time 

And let's put a few together, shall we:

'If he focused his energy in more positive way, he might surprise himself = If he shut up for 10 seconds, we'd all be surprised.  

'He is a polite and likeable member of the tutor group = He does not swear, spit, nor attack me.

'She has worked quietly and conscientiously this term = Hand on heart? No clue who this is. 

'I feel he is working harder than his grades suggest = He is working exactly as hard as his grades suggest. (Note: What I feel is, frankly, tired. The reason I wrote that I feel... is because I am offering you enough hope to dissuade you from thinking anything can really be done about it. Like arranging a meeting, for example. It's nothing concrete, just a feeling, you know?

 

'He must demonstrate to his teachers that his attitude is positive towards the subject' = In terms of contributions to the lesson, you would do well to distinguish between the student and the desk

 

But it hasn't always been like this. The best two reports I've ever heard are as follows. Both from posh schools, and from a time when teacher's were guests in their own lessons. That is to say, better times:

2. Your son reminds me much of one of those new vacumm cleaners. He makes an awful lot of noise but picks up very little.

 

And this gem, from an old Headmaster from those better days when Simkins would receive a good half dozen of the cane for blubbering like a girl after finding out his mother had died. Feeble boy. Apathy drips from the quill. 

 

1. Simkins has been in my class for the entire Michaelmas term, and even now I cannot put a face to that name. This reflects well on neither of us, but the ball is in his court. 

 

Spare the rod... 

Argentina's Hardest Man

Attached, or readable if you click the image, is a far superior article about the Argentine male than this one, but here's an anecdote to add to the overall picture. 

One of the first things you notice living here is that for all the famous machismo, on fresh arrival from the UK, there is a notable lack of alpha male posturing. There isn't the bullying banter in the pubs (well, there aren't pubs, there are bars), drunkeness is not public, no one eyeballs you, or drops their shoulder into you on the street. There's none of that 'you looking at my bird' tediousness.  

That's partly because the definitions are different. In Britain being a man is defined in the following order. 

1. Ability to drink. 

2. Car, and ability to drive it.

3. Ability, or assumed ability, to fight. 

4. Ability as a sportsman, or importance placed on sport. 

5. Your success with women.

 

But really it's a Top three. This ability to get a girl is a distant 5th behind your sporting ability and the others. This can be elucidated by the fact that a Barcardi Breezer drinking, Mini-driving 'man' could play pro football and live in the playboy mansion, the damage would already have been done. 

It's different here. The Argentine list, from what I've seen, runs as follows. 

1. Not being a woman. 

You'll see group of Argie guys in the pub watching football, talking for hours about women, bantering about conquests, commenting on the barmaids and passing eye candy, all sitting round a communal litre bottle of Quilmes. 7-8 glasses. No rounds, no pressure. Maybe I'll break the gas with an espresso. Anyone else? Yeah.  

The celebrations for gooooooooools will be missed by at least half of the group, who were doing their hair in the bathrooms for some part of most of the second half. They'll talk emotions, listen to one another intently, reinforce the importance of time spend together and say they should do this more often, plan a weekend trip together, exchange tips for cosmetics products, comment on each other's shirts in ways that bolster self-esteem.  

It's all so nice and normal and devoid of the homoerotic bonding of drunken Brits and as such it is totally, totally weird.   

No better anecdote than this one, though I could choose from a few, including a mates' husband (she's American, he's from here) who died of embarrassment each time her 6' 2'' extreme snowboarding über-Argie male, asked politely but specifically at the bar for an extra cherry in his strawberry diaquiris. 

Ryan, an Aussie who runs a risk company, told m this. He was having a few cherry, er, diaquiris with one of the harder men in Argentina, Raúl. Raúl works for the Army's special services, essentially the equivalent of the British Marines SBS. 

Raúl disappeard to the baño, and, after a lengthy while, Ryan thought he had better check his mate was ok. They were, after all, already on their their third drink. 

On arriving in the bathroom, Raúl was standing in front of the mirror, having an apparent, you talking to me, moment. 

"You ok mate", Ryan piped up.   

"Not exactly", replied Argentina's hardest man. "I think I'm getting crows feet, Ryan."

Tough time to break it to him that the waitress had forgotten the extra cheery. That could break an Argentine man. 

Taxi Driver

Driving in Argentina is too boring, clichéd and flogged conversation to mention. However, for me its the personalities people behind the wheel that are often at least as terrifying as the blurry Grand Theft Auto remake going on in the wide wind screen.

There is a popular blog in Buenos Aires regarding a young lady who gets into a taxi from time to time and says, "Take me to your favourite restaurant", the rates it. A novel concept, but she could save herself the meal and the effort. Just blog the lunatics carrying the cities carless masses around, driving with panache and impunity.

At the moment we seem to be in a particularly black run, so let me relate the Top 3 of 2009, so far.

3. Short, Silent and Bitter

Does exactly what it say on the tin.

- Hola, vamos a San Isidro.

Silence for the entire journey. The tariff is 23.50. I have a 50 notes.

- What the f**k am I supposed to do with a 50? Do I look like I'm carrying around 10 notes, 10 notes everywhere, what do you think? That's not how it works in this country, boludo, what am I suppose to do with a 50, a dios, as if I don't have to drive this boludo up to San Isidro... I tune out.

2. ADD

Attention Deficit Disorder is a disorder that is usually detected in children, upon which they are pumped full or ritalin - a 'stimulant that works like a seditive' - until they have pased out of school and can use their need ot sleep 4 hours a night to good use in a bank. However, not all of them work in bank. Some of them drive taxis in BsAs.

- Hola, como va?

- Hola, vamos a San Isidro, por Maipu, por favor.

- (Recognising accent) So, ah! hola que tal, where you from bonjour hello how are you?

- Scotland.

- Ah, beautiful (and from here on in Spanish) and I love Scotland Scottish people I wish I was still working in the bank. I was a trader. I worked as a trader, banker, it's part of my course to work in lots of differnet jobs it's like a test really in the banks you havre to work many hours so I am working five jobs at the moment, taxi driver, with the Special Forces, as I said a trader...

- Liar?

- ... (not noticing, and at this point I cannot tell you how fast this guy is driving) Yeah, but you've gotto enjoy life, yeah? I love the movies.

- movies?

- Yeah, I finish this work, 6pm to 6am and watch 2 or 3 films.

- When do you sleep?

- I don't really. It's really dangerous (flying in and out of traffic, jumping lights) doing this job without sleep. One slip up, one missed light and pow, that's it, you're gone. Where are you going?

- Yeah. Here is fine.

- Muy bien. Viva la viva amigo!

1. Angry Money Man

Emanating a hatred for the world that is only intensified upoin the realisation that I am foreign, heightened further still upon the revelation that I live here, by choice. I don't get time to answer the questions, which are flying at me like the traffic lights disappearing in the mirror:

- So, where you from?

- Scotland.

- Why?

Thrown... - Er, that's where I was born, and lived...

- No. Why you here?

- Er...

- Work?

- Well, yeah?

- You bring your wife?

- Um, we decided tog...

- What do you earn?

- What?

- What do you do? Lawyer? Business? What?

- I'm a teacher.

- And what does a teacher earn? A month, I mean?

- Um... Well, on average, about 4000

- And in Scotland?

- In pesos or in pounds?

- In pesos, boludo (as in In pesos, dickhead)

- Well, more obviously, about 12000 I guess

And this sets him off into a now I've heard it all style rant

- A dios, he brings his wife over here, shitty city crime getting worse every week Boca can't win a game traffics a joke and he wants to earn peanuts monkey money and he thinks he likes it que boludo and here I am driving him to San Isidro out of my way to take this boludo and his wife back to... I tune out.

Peek-a-boo

The only way to get sunburn in Scotland. Brilliant.

Patrons and bar staff got sunstroke inside a pub in Buckie, Banffshire, Scotland, after the manager accidentally put in bulbs from a tanning bed. Manager Emma McLean replaced the blue strip lights behind the bar with high-powered ultraviolet tubes. The unsuspecting punters stood underneath the lights for hours and some needed hospital treatment. Barman Morgan Smith suffered severe burns to his neck.

Nobody could believe he got sunstroke from standing behind a bar. The lamps are only supposed to be used for a few minutes at a time. No one had any idea they were being cooked until staff began to complain of dizziness. Some customers also suffered burns in the incident.

It's understood the owners of the bar could be facing legal action.

Thanks to TheDailyRecord.co.uk

Sharing With The Milk Tray Man

You never really know someone till you live with them, they say. I thought I knew a little bit about Danielle (pictured above on non-uniform day) before we started co-rooming this year at school, but it seems not. 

Quick context. I teach Film this year, so spend about half my time teaching in the IT room. For some reason, the IT room doubles as Daniel's office where he chooses to sit right up front, 'working'. I say some reason because he is one of the few people who has an office. It's next door. It serves its purpose. It has walls and a door that closes so well that when he goes in there and shuts the door I can no longer hear nor see him. 

And he chooses to sit at the front of my classes working. That is working when he isn't asking my students questions, or comparing ring tone downloads with them, or playing music. 

Furthermore the school's 'other' printer is broken, so every teacher in the school must go to the IT room to print anything. And, being Argentina, it would be unthinkable to enter a room without greeting and exchanging pleasantries with every person there.   

As such, my lessons run something like this. 

Me: OK, guys, let's get started, plenty to get through today. Books open, key question on the board, are there any question?

Danny puts his hand up. 

Me: Er, you're not actually in the class, Daniel.

Daniel: (Cryptically) Don't forget.

Me: Oh-kay, thanks for that. So, we're looking at use of sound today, have a look at...

Door opens. Teacher arrives making excuse me, 'time out' sign, they mime that they need to print something. This mime is confusing, because it conveys to me that they understand a lesson is trying to get under way, and it would be rude to disturb it. 

Teacher then mouths hello at a couple of students before catching eyes with one they know quite well. A kiss on the cheek, a como te vas? and they're sitting printing. 

Me (irritated): (Directed at the teacher) OK, can we start? Good, so, sound in film. The use of diegetic sound is important to understand because...

Daniel's mobile ring. He eyes an apology. Again, a confusing paradox, because almost as he dramatically switches his hey-look-everyone-I've-got-a-trendy-Razr-phone phone off, his laptop starts chuntering out something tuneless and trendy tinned beats.

Girl in my class: Che, Danny, que canción buena! A mi me encanta... (Starts singing along)

I look at Daniel. He mimes, sorry, and plugs in his headphones. And starts head dancing. 

At this point if he stood up and started dancing, singing Lionel Ritchie ballads, I swear he could not become any more annoying.  

Me: Right, we were talking about the use of sound?

I play a clip that I have ready. I kid you not, this is what happens. He looks up, carefully removes his headphones, and says.

Daniel: Por favor, podes bajar el volumen?

What do you mean, turn the sound down!? It's my frikkin lesson!! We're doing FILM. We're analysing SOUND. Sorry if it's interfering with your ring tones, but I'm trying to TEACH here. Christ!  

Door opens. Second teacher enters. Mimes can I print etc, wanders in, greets all students, sits down next to other teacher and they start talking. 

Teacher: Che, Danny, can I print something? 

Daniel: Sure thing. 

Yeah, don't mind me. He slides back using the wheels of his office chair, arcs nonchalantly into his office, reaches out, grabs something, spins the chair around, kicks off repeating The Move, but with a block of paper on his lap, spins again through 180 and in one movement places paper in the paper tray. 

He tries so hard not to smile. Girls are watching and everything.  

This might even be cause to dig up the word 'smooth' from 1982, except he practices this when he thinks no one is watching. Berk. 

He doesn't give the Wink and the Gun to the printing teacher, but you know it's in his repertoire. 

Me: (Struggling to keep it together) Do you mind?

Daniel: Sorry. 

Finally, I have got through. 

Daniel: (Smiling) Don't forget.

The words Don't Forget WHAT are lost in the sound of the gunshot blowing out my remaining living brains. 

Update, and Sharing With The Milk Tray Man

I've been a poor blogger of late. It seems that a change comes over me at the start of term, and a brain usually filled with observations about life and Argentina is filled and a desire to learn Spanish is replaced by one that plans, teaches, marks, organises and talks... in English.

 

Well, the talking remains a constant.

 

The start of term is a curious affair here. You have nearly 10 days INSET (INSErviceTraining - it's all about the acronyms, work), where time passes at a snail's pace, and pace indeed is slow, suddenly the gates open and you've a classfull of kids, writing and talking, their enthusiasm for the start of the year matched only by your own as you both set wonderfully optimistic expectations for the year ahead. 

 

Everything is organised, clean, fresh and full of hope. 

 

No, the follow up is not cynical. Things continue as such, at least for a while. Indeed, the model of my perfect year is alwasy to push this start of year Honeymoon Period as close to the end of the year as possible. 

 

But it does mean the blog gets ignored. Except that I am now teaching Film, which means I am in the IT room, which means I am sharing a room with Danielle - the Milk Tray man famed from two popular entries about a year ago. Daniel and Dougal - the entry will follow shortly, and it will kill you like it is killing me. 

 

A glimpse of things to come. A 29 year old man, a range of polyphonic ringtones, jangling keys, and a single phrase of English: "Don't forget".