Yesterday was a funny old day back in Nowhere-on-Thames.
It was the day of my once-in-a-blue moon teaching
observation at college, so my boss was due to attend my evening class and check
whether I’d forgotten how to teach. As I’ve
said before, I hesitate to use the term “teacher” to describe myself, lest I am
found out, so I always assume that THIS will be the occasion when the
finding-out happens.
The worst part of the process (for me, anyway) is that there
appears to be an unhealthy obsession with paperwork. There’s nothing (in my view) more likely to
stifle any spontaneity and naturalness in a class of students than someone who
is following a lesson plan so prescriptive that every move, activity and
behaviour is documented and timed. However, someone in the Department for
Education and Skills, or whatever it’s called this week, has decreed that we
need to document everything, and It Shall Be So.
Armed with my seven page Scheme of Work, my three page Lesson Plan (later deemed “lacking
in detail” – give me strength!) I was about to sally forth and be observed,
when the reason for the cat’s incessant mewing revealed itself. He was sitting
on the stairs in a small cloud of feathers, tucking into a bird. Yeuk!
This was not good news.. I was planning to arrive at college
a little earlier than usual, so as to prepare for my class and appear calm,
organised and ready long before the appointed hour. I had NOT factored into my
plans the extra time required to dispose of a dead bird and a duvet’s-worth of
feathers, or to scrub the resultant stains from the landing carpet. The cat
sensed my displeasure and did a runner. I arrived at college with enough time
to spare, but a little warmer and more frazzled
than planned.
The college part went well. I’d organised a food tasting in
order for the students to learn some new adjectives to describe tastes,
textures and give opinions, and they seemed to have fun. The Italian students
were particularly impressed with haggis, to the point that one of them
willingly took all the leftovers home for his dinner!
Arriving home in the car, I approached the front door to find
the house in darkness. I initially took this as a sign that TH had decided to
have an early night, and made a mental note to remind him that my eyesight is
not good enough to find the keyhole in such gloom. Eventually, after several abortive attempts
to insert the key in the lock, I succeeded, only to walk in and see TH sitting
at the dining table bathed in candlelight. Ran a mental check…not my birthday
or TH’s, too early for Mothers’ Day, too late for Valentine’s Day, Wedding
anniversary next month…”We’re having a power cut”, said TH.
It was the strangest power cut I’ve ever experienced. After
a candlelight search of the Yellow Pages (lucky I hadn’t thrown them away: who
uses them any more when Google is so handy?) we found a number to call, and a
recorded voice told us that we were in the same boat as most of the Greater
Nowhere area. A “Problem” had been
discovered and was being investigated. This was especially odd, as our
immediate neighbours’ house was bathed in light, as were several of the houses
opposite. Neighbours were, despite the lateness of the hour, milling in the
street, trying to see what was going on. One house opposite us, divided into
flats, had power to the ground floor flat, but upstairs was in darkness.
Another neighbour, driving home, had crossed a bridge over the M4 motorway just
as a whole section of it plunged into darkness as the street lights went out.
Lessons were learned:
- - A Kindle is rubbish by candlelight
- - A gas hob is a godsend as long as it doesn’t take you over an hour to remember that you can light it when there’s no electricity
- - Never hide your candles in the darkest corner of the house
- - Torches are only useful if they contain batteries
TH and I retired to bed to sleep through the power cut,
trudging upstairs like Mr and Mrs Wee Willie Winkie with our candles and glum
expressions.
This morning, normal service had been resumed, but it seems
we were without power for a good seven hours. The only positive thing was that,
owing to my absence in Nowhere-in France last week, TH had eaten his way
through most of the contents of the freezer!
