Posted 4:42 AM by Lodger
Okay. I know. Haven't been updating too often. And a great deal has happened since the last update.

First... Glasgow did not happen. There was a screw up with the tickets and it was more economical to take the loss on the original tickets (20 pounds return!) than to change the reservations.

Instead, it was a quiet weekend preparing for the work week. Our school was inspected Tuesday and Wednesday... very stressful! I was observed on Tuesday. My worst group, the nines! It did not go well. Objectives were not met. Everyone was not participating in the learning. And I did a fair amount of yelling. So I thought, 'Hmmm, guess my career is over.' Not at all. Inspector told management and colleagues to make a special point of mentioning that I have the goods to be a successfull teacher and that it will come with time. The vote of confidence was very necessary and well timed.

This past Saturday a large group of us marched for peace in central London, taking part in the biggest peace demonstration in British history. For me and the fellow marchers in our group, it was quite a reunion. There were five UBC education alumni in our group. At a Valentine's day pub get-together the previous night, another UBC alumnus was present. Many of us remarked on how strange it was to all be collected together, a year after studying together, in London at a peace rally. I'm frequently finding myself thinking or saying to others that I could never have imagined experiencing moments in which I find myself. It's like waking from a dream and then realising you were never dreaming in the first place. Experiencing life in immediate waking moments... no set plans, no fears. Of course, I drift often into the auto-pilot, dreamlike existence that is everyday living. Time passes too quickly in this state, until... the next immediate waking moment...

On Sunday Manami and I went to the Tate modern gallery, checked out some modern art, bought some postcards and posters... I found a long out of print book I've been looking for for years: 'A Book of Nonsense' by Edward Lear. Wonderful illustrated limericks for children from the mid 19th century. A thrilling find. We had Chinese food for dinner and then saw the film, 'The Hours' that evening. We both highly recommend it. Then, back to the flat in Croydon to pack for...

AMSTERDAM!!! Monday morning, bright and early, Manami and I set off by train to Luton airport and then by plane to Holland's beautiful city of canals, museums, rows of skinny tall buildings, bicycles, hash bars and brothels. When we arraived, we walked from the train station to our hostel in the heart of the red light district. The hostel owner, Larry, suggested for five euros more than had been arranged for a room at the hostel, we could stay in an apartment a few blocks away. We decided it was worth it. So we ventured forth in search of what would be our home for the next two and a half days. Larry had warned us that our street did have some prostitutes working nearby and not to be alarmed. When we found the quaint little sidestreet from Larry's map and instructions, we noticed very few of the doors along the street lacked the accompaniment of a red light. As we walked along I couldn't help noticing the scantilly dressed women standing in the windows of these rooms, but I attempted to keep my gaze facing sternly forward, as I was accompanying Manami and felt it best to behave respectfully. That is, until she commented, and then suggested I look as much as I want as she was looking herself and finding the whole thing fascinating. Of course, over the two evenings we stayed there we had many opportunities to observe the men and women and the regular goings on along our sinful little sidestreet, and I must admit that there is little that is disarming or disturbing about it all. It's all legal, and the men walk confidently down these sidestreets and alleys without shame. When the guilt and shame is removed the ugliness seems to fly away with it. I don't know about the ins and outs of the prostitution laws in Amsterdam, but I can say that we spent a good deal of our time in the 'red light district' and at no time felt unsafe or threatened. I could definitely not say the same about Vancouver.

We visited 'The Anne Frank House' on our first afternoon in the city. I 'd like to be able to describe with some accuracy the gravity and emotional impact of the experience, but I'm afraid I could never do it justice. The following impression will have to do: It's a beautiful, clear day, the house is located on one of the canals, bicycles peacefully passing by... and then the realisation that on this same street, in a city that instantly imparted in me a sense of belonging or coming home, in my grandfather's generation (only two generations ago!), jews were being rounded up and carted away to the place where the would be exterminated in horrifying numbers. To stand in a place where evil, and courage in the face of such evil, have left behind their ghostly traces, is both humbling and inspiring.

After such an experience, we both seemed to want to take in the city with a greater sense of purpose and vigour. We explored the shops along the canals west of the red light district and it was during this little exploratory excursion that I remarked that I had very quickly fallen in love. It isn't the architecture, the canals or the shops that make such a fast impression, although their beauty is unquestionable. Instead it's the mood, the tone of the city, a feeling of relaxed harmony... these people ride bikes, traffic is moderate (especially when compared to London), the shopkeepers are friendly, people walk around with easy, relaxed expressions on their faces. The big question: do they need English teachers there? Trust me. I wouldn't hesitate.

We decided to go to Leid Spleine (the entertainment district - hope I spelled it correctly) for dinner and then to a jazz club for the evening. We ate Italian then asked the concierge at the Marriot where we could find live jazz performed. He recommended 'Bourbon Street' or 'Club Alto.' 'Bourbon Street' had the cooler name so we decided to try it first. Poor choice. The music ended at 10PM and it was already 9:30. So 'Club Alto' became the choice by default. We weren't disappointed. A quartet was performing: tenor sax, bass, piano and drums. They played a good mix: some slow burning ballads, some funky blues numbers, some Latin flavoured tunes and some uptempo bebop to challenge the audience a bit. It was all new to Manami and I kept asking her if she was enjoying it. She insisted she was. She even suggested we come back the following night. A new convert to the world of jazz. I, of course, was in heaven. A real jazz club. Packed on a Monday night!

The next morning we had our free breakfast at 'The Hotel Groenendale.' A hard boiled egg. Toast. Cheese. Coffee and tea. Nutritious and nicely priced. We then made our way to the 'Van Gogh Museum:' more art, more purchase of posters and postcards, a cafe style lunch that knocked us back a whopping 25 euros (ouch!). Discovered that Van Gogh and his brother, Theo, were avid collectors of Japanese prints. The museum had their entire collection on exhibit. The evening before I had given Manami a few tidbits of info about jazz, improvisation, etc... and she repaid the favour by filling me in on some of the Japanese images and history depicted in the prints. We viewed the first floor last: the collection of Van Gogh paintings. To see so many in one place, and to be able to follow his development as an artist by viewing the paintings in chronological order was a pleasure.

That evening we decided on Italian food again, since it seems to be by far the least expensive type of cuisine available in Amsterdam. Before heading out to the jazz club again, we both tentatively discussed how we had not really taken in any of the more sinful delights of the city, i.e. visited any of the 'special cafes.' Much to my surprise, we found ourselves in full agreement and made it our mission to procure some 'legal substances,' as it were. Of course, both being innocent Canadian boobs, we wasted a full hour wandering around looking for a place to make our purchase. Finally we asked a couple of American guys who were in search of a wholly different kind of sinful pleasure. They looked at us like we were idiots and said, 'You can get it in any coffee shop - look for a green and white sign.' So we did. And we successfully made our purchase (5 euros - a much better value than our cafe lunch!). The guy at the bar was a Londoner and a very nice one at that. Arsenal (a London football club) was playing Ajax (a Dutch team) on the big screen and Arsenal scored while Manami and I waited, making all three of us happy. Finally, with our purchase in hand, we headed back to the hotel room. We never made it to the jazz club. We decided it was too cold out there and that our conversations, which grew more and more interesting as the night went on, were entertainment enough. I became convinced that time had slowed down, and that indeed at times I was dropping out of time altogether. Manami frequently agreed with my observations and comments. I viewed her agreements with skepticism. 'Do you really agree with me or are you just making fun of me?' I found it hard to believe she could agree with my philosophical observations when I could barely make sense of them myself. I became obsessed with how quickly time was passing (seven minutes felt like thirty, etc...). We also played a game of spying on the brothel customers, which Manami found far more interesting than I did. Eventually we passed out, or went to sleep - I can't remember which.

The next morning we slept in. We were supposed to be out at ten. Larry came knocking at about eleven fifteen with a friendly reminder. We groggily made our way back to the hostel to pick up our passports and phones from the safe, and then left our bags there for our last few hours of exploring. Comparatively speaking, the time was passed uneventfully. Brunch in a lovely little cafe. A visit to an internet cafe to check our emails. And then the train to the airport and the flight back to London. Manami headed back to Tipton yesterday evening and I mad my way back to Croydon.

Amsterdam has refreshed me. Today has been a lazy day - a cafe brunch reading 'The Guardian' and 'The Economist.' Finally got my library card. Spent most of the day here at the library, actually, exploring books about the English curriculum and some stuff in the philosophy section. And of course using the free internet service.

Thinking now about going out to buy a new camera. Need one. Lynn arrives tomorrow and I would like to be able to record our adventures with a nice set of photos. Hopefully I'll be able to get tickets to 'Chicago' the musical for Saturday night, and then we are off to Brighton on Sunday.

Message to Lemmon: glad to hear you are feeling better. Got the Valentine's day card but haven't been able to listen to it yet, a key part of the experience I am sure. Hope your Pea is feeling better soon and that all is well with you both. Miss you.

Message to Minit: I'm sure you can tell from this entry that Holland is now a high priority destination for summer travelling. My top destinations would be: Holland, France, Germany, Spain, Italy, Czech Republic and Poland. I don't even know if these are geographically logical choices... I haven't even really explored a map yet or looked into prices. Manami has expressed interest in joining us for at least part of the tour. Why must July be so far away?!!!

Posted 3:36 PM by Lodger
Some teacher related thoughts/ideas/observations and what not...

As a teacher in a foreign country I tend to notice more differences than similarities. And then something happens that reminds me that young'ns will be young'ns the world over. I noticed one of my year seven girls was passing a note to a male classmate. I confiscated the note and put it into my pocket. When I got home that evening I read it: John, Will you go out with Nicki cos she wants to go out with you. Emma. This was last week. Knowing twelve year olds and their concept of time combined with their heightened sense of drama, I suspect Nicki and John have already 'gone out' and broken up, and that both have found another object upon which to place their fickle affections.

My year sevens are studying A Midsummer Night's Dream. As an exercise I had them summarise segments of the story from oral readings by yours truly. One scene from the play involves a group of working class actors entering the forest to find a place to rehearse a play. The following student's summary unintentionally (I'm sure) brought to my mind something else entirely: namely, bell bottomed white trousers, mirror balls, platform shoes and hanging out at the local "Y" with 'the boys.' Here it is: The village people came charging into the forest looking for a quiet place to rehearse their play.


The folowing metaphors and similes come from essays handed in by year eleven students for their final government examination (GCSE):

Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two other sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.

The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.

Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.

The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.

Long seperated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like frieght trains, one having left York at 6:36 pm travelling at 55mph, the other from Peterborough at 4:19 pm at a speed of 35 mph.

John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had never met.

The plan was simple, just like my brother Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.

He was a lame duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a landmine or something.

Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell butter from 'I Can't Believe It's not Butter.'

She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

It came down the stairs looking very much like something no one had ever seen before.

The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a lamppost.

The dandelion swayed in the gentle breeze like an oscillating fan set on medium.

It was a working class tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.

He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a dustcart reversing.


Some of those are actually quite clever. I suspect many of the students were being intentionally cheeky.


Finally:

Came across the following quote in an essay I read recently:

...nothing promotes [the] ripeness for freedom so much as freedom itself. This truth, perhaps, may not be acknowledged by those who have so often used this unripeness as an excuse for continuing repression. But it seems to me to follow unquestionably from the very nature of man. The incapacity for freedom can only arise from a want of moral and intellectual power(italics mine); to heighten this power is the only way to supply this want; but to do this presupposes the freedom that awakens spontaneous activity. Only it is clear we cannot call it giving freedom, when bonds are relaxed which are not felt as such by him who wears them. But of no man on earth--however neglected by nature , and however degraded by circumstances--is this true of all the bonds which oppress him. Let us undo them one by one, as the feeling of freedom awakens in men's hearts, and we shall hasten progress at every step. (Wilhelm von Humblodt)

And this quote from Paolo Friere from the same essay:

...schools...are more preoccupied with the transmission of knowledge than with the creation, among other values, of a critical spirit. From the social point of view, the education systems are oriented to maintaining the existing social and economic structures instead of transforming them.


As a new teacher, I see myself teaching in a way that is merely just the transmission of knowledge. The gap between what I'd like to be doing and the reality is wide. Some days I feel like a failure, a common feeling for new teachers, I am sure. But I also feel as though I can see myself doing this for a long time... I will develop my skills, I will eventually get to a place where I feel my ideals will resemble my actions.

Posted 10:20 AM by Lodger
I've become aware that my weblog lacks some of the zip that "Selfish Bastard" had in the initial stages. I aim to change this, to get back to the spontaneous ramblings that littered that weblog's mustard coloured pages. But there is the problem of "Lodger's" main purpose: to report my experiences in London to my friends and family back home. I tend to fall into a pattern of 'the school week was _____, I did _____ on Friday, Saturday, etc., went to _____, saw this gallery/show, etc. And that is, unfortunately, what I must breifly do now. I promise to do my best to make it entertaining.

The saga of the year nines continues. I am being assured by other staff that insubordinate, rude behavior is not to be unexpected from students when one is a new teacher. The students must be broken in, apparently, or, to be absolutely cynical about it, just plain broken. It's a shame really. One would hope that reason and common sense could be the building blocks of a fully functioning classroom. Not for this group. And then there are those students who suffer because others are disruptive. Very disappointing. Had the nines fourth period today, just before lunch, and my mood was affected for most of the rest of the day. But I must admit to having an uncanny ability to eventually just leave it behind me. In other words, at least for now, year nine students do not haunt my dreams.

Next week our school is being inspected, something that happens often in this country. It is not a full OFSTED report (the big one conducted once every 3-5 years), but just a two dayer. I will very likely be observed, as I teach English, a core subject. All I can do is my best. I'm sure if there are a few hiccups my Department Head will provide the obligatory, "Oh, he's just new. And Canadian!" All the excuse I should need. But I'm sure it will be fine.

Enough about work. Did manage to have some fun this past week. Saw a few movies (I seem to be addicted to the silver screen -and I live so close to a theatre that plays good films, not the typical Hollywood fare). Saw Atarnajuat, the first ever Inuit feature film. It was amazing. A mystical wilderness epic. Also so About Schmidt and The Pianist. Saw The Pianist with Nooshin. Didn't know what to expect, but was pleasantly surprised. Directed by Roman Polanski, its a film about a Polish Jewish pianist who lives through the Nazi occupation. His (true) story of survival is horrifying, but ultimately beautiful, and the contrast between seeing a man reduced to an almost inhuman state to survive and seeing the same man create deeply moving music is striking.

Friday night I went to a fireworks display for Chinese New Year with my fellow Canadian compatriots from work, Barita, Astra and Winnie (from here on refered to as The Canadian Contingent or the CC), as well as Winnie's boyfriend Scott (from Chicago) and Emma, a co-worker from Australia. The display was cool, but only lasted about fourty seconds. Afterwards we went in to Chinatown for food, beer and Chinese tea. I was told when I first arrived here that it was impossible to get good Chinese food in London. Not true. Chinatown is apparently the place to go and it was not too expensive either.

I declared Saturday my first full day of culture. I got up early, took the train into London and went to The National Gallery and The Portrait Gallery. It was incredible. When I first entered the West Wing of the National Gallery (1500-1600) I saw some paintings I'd seen only in books before and actually felt a bit emotional. But I did manage to control myself and spent the next four hours or so wandering from room to room. The only lull was the rather extensive series of rooms exhibiting Dutch portraits and still lifes. I did begin to go a bit stir crazy during that stretch. Then I arrived at the room of Rembrantds and was quite quickly rejuvenated. The highlight was definitely the impressionists and other early modern painters. Monet. Manet. Degas. Van Gogh. Cezanne. I can't wait to visit the Tate Britain and Tate Modern Galleries. I did find that the experience was exhilarating, but exhausting at the same time. I found my lack of background knowledge, especially about Christian saints and images, etc. slowed me down, because I had to read each description to fully understand what many of the paintings were all about.

Took it easy Saturday night - ate dinner. Read a book. The conclusion of a day totally dedicated to me. It was refreshing.

Next weekend The PBB (aka The Piccadilly Pedagogical Brigade aka Manami, Sheilagh and I) is heading to Scotland. The first trip. Glasgow. Under £10 return airfare. You really can't beat that. Should be a lot of fun, and Glasgow was named European city of culture a couple of years ago, so there should be a lot of interesting things to see.

The following week - Amsterdam! And then Lynn arrives from Vancouver. A trip to Oxford is planned. Also, a trip to Paris. I am extremely excited.

Some random thoughts and observations:

Michael Jackson is crazy. I was deeply disturbed by the interview broadcast from last night. His celebrity and extreme wealth have allowed him to create a world for himself that serves his every need and impulse, no matter how disturbing to an outside viewer. Here's something that sprung to my mind while watching the interview: He apparently loves these 12-13 year old friends of his like they are his own family. If so, one would think that these close emotional bonds would yield friendships to last a lifetime. Yet, he's constantly surrounded by children. One wonders whether he discards these young friends when they get on in years and become uninteresting to him.

Was in central London and wondering why there are no rubbish bins. Fariba gave me my answer yesterday - terrorist threat. The IRA used to place bombs in them and it was impossible to monitor them so now... no rubbish bins.

As you just read (rubbish bins) I'm giving in quite easily to the local vocabulary. I use a mobile phone, not a cell phone. I go to the toilet, not the washroom. I eat sweets, not candy. Use the tube. I'm even beginning use the expression 'a bit' quite a bit, as in a bit of luck, a bit of tea, or I hope I get the biggest bit of cake, I hope I hear the latest bit of gossip... its a very commonly used word here. I also adore the word, 'lovely.' It's extremely versatile. Anything can be lovely - how are you today? Lovely thanks, and you. Lovely weather. She's a lovely girl, isn't she. It's used basically in place of good, but it sounds so much lovelier (see what I mean?). It's use brings a warm sunny glow, a happy gleam or shine to anything to which its attached. Possibly to compensate for the dreary climate? Who knows? I just know its a lovely word.

Another interesting linquistic tidbit. When I first arrived here, especially at work when I was beginning to see similar faces on a daily basis, I was routinely greeted with the following puzzling phrase: 'yeah... allright?' or just 'allright?' I took it to mean, how are you getting on, or how are you today? I would reply, good thanks, and you? I also expected that this might lead to a brief conversation. But it rarely did. I was confused. I was glad they were concerned about how I was getting on, but I was also alarmed by their seeming disinterest in my reply. Did they want to know how I was doing or not? In time, I realised that saying 'allright?' is like saying hello, just a standard greeting. I still have trouble coming up with an appropriate response. I sometimes just smile and nod.

I could write more, but then I might be locked in the school overnight and that would not do. So I will end here. One final note:

Happy Birthday to Steph back in Vancouver. She turned thirty on February 2nd. It's a good year, my dear. May all of your dreams come true!