T’s and C’s Apply

We wake at dawn, my daughter and I, in order to get us both to school (on the opposite sides of CT) on time. It’s not amazing. But we are now in a ritual where, after pressing snooze about 50 times, I rouse my warm, sleepy little girl and get out of bed to put on the kettle, prepare breakfast and switch on the radio. I then take our breakfasts back to bed and we sit there in sleepy silence shovelling in mouthfuls of cereal, and wearily listen to the (usually quite annoying) music and the cheerful chattering of the DJ’s. And, ye gods! the incessant advertisements.

 I don’t really pay attention to them, but as the days go on I am becoming more and more aware how after advertising absolutely anything from polyfiller to pretzels to concert tickets, that T’s and C’s apply. Like, really? What a sad testament to society that cheesy radio ads have to have this legal jargon incorporated. It makes me nauseous. You can have this “amazing” thing but terms and conditions apply, which means that actually maybe you can’t, because you don’t fit whatever criteria is stipulated in the fine print. Buy two bags of naartjies and you get one bag free, T’s & C’s apply (ie the third bag is dripping and mouldy and from last years crop). And, yes you can have this lovely ladies watch for only R199 but you first have to purchase this flat screen TV for R12000, and unless you uncheck this box we will spam you every half and hour for the rest of your life. It’s funny cos it’s true!

It’s like having to sign an indemnity form to acknowledge that should any thing go wrong, the products company are not in any way liable. Just the fact that if someone chokes on a raison in a muesli bar and then attempts to sue the company that produced the bar, is ridiculous and yet not unheard of. And secondly that company’s are so nervous of being liable for anything that they have to include this form of indemnity thus releasing themselves of being criticized or getting bad press. Passing the buck back to you! Ugh!  Where is the love people? Where is the trust and transparency of trade and produce?

It feels like a sci fi novel or movie, where society has been corrupted and has changed so radically that the food comes in the form of a pellet, hover crafts pass by your windows in your sky loft, and toilet paper is no longer used because there is some other weird system which deals with that … situation…(see Demolition Man, 1993). Or like in The Fifth Element where advertisements are tailor made to suit your position in society and plague you where ever you go. Maybe I’m exaggerating a bit, I realise I am rather cynical, but you know what I mean – these things develop so fast that it’s not hard to imagine it spiralling out of control. There are enough extremes and dogma to deal with already thank you very much!

So, with such disillusioned and complex thoughts occupying my mind, I then have to find something appropriate to wear to school. Something that covers my tattoos isn’t too low, too short, too revealing etc. There is a crisis in education in this country, we really need good teachers; altruistic, highly talented and qualified individuals who don’t expect to earn very much and will dedicate their lives and energy to adequately educating the increasingly (in my situation) reluctant youth. There is nothing more important!  But…
Terms and Conditions apply.                                              

Which brings me to this very thorny and delicate subject, the crown of thorns, the sword in my side (I do not have a Christ complex I’m just running with the metaphor), which is being employed by a school. I cannot say too much here, however what I can say is this. Unless you are employed by the Western Cape Education Department (WCED) you have no real sense of job security, because as a Governing Body (GB) educator (that is, employed by the school rather than the State) your contract gets renewed annually. That basically means that you live in perpetual terror of losing your job for what boils down to 'financial issues', which is seriously an unpleasant environment to live/work in.

How can one, as a teacher, focus on the arduous tasks in hand when one is worrying about how long it will last? The students themselves will be affected by the teachers own sense of tenuous frailty, it disrupts the flow, the continuity, sense of safety and balance if teachers are swapped around and replaced all the time, surely?  I learned in my PGCE course last year and have witnessed it this year myself, that for the learners to have the best chance of gaining any knowledge and sustaining their development, they need to establish a sense of trust in their teachers and in the system.

 It brings to mind the way some people advocate the use of  ritual and routines when caring for an infant. For example, 6 o’clock is bath time, followed by a feed and then to bed. This is supposed to give the infant a sense of safety and comfort, and hopefully gives the parent or care giver an easier time during this period of adjustment and development. So it helps a child / learner to know what is expected of them, where boundaries are shaped, and a form of reassurance that they are in safe hands.

This tenuous position of a GB post is in direct conflict to those who have a WCED post. These teachers are, between the unions and various government organisations, untouchable. This means that one of these teachers can do all manner of things and it is virtually, by law, impossible to fire them. This can result in stagnation, and the making of what my lecturer at UCT termed “the grey lizards”, meaning teachers who have been in a school since forever and have not altered their techniques or opinions or ways of teaching which are, or rather should be, constantly being adjusted, renewed and/or enhanced to fit in with the current epoch, much as society itself does. Then again, some of these teachers remain incredibly resilient to this kind of deflation, and power on with giving all they have to the school, the learners, the world. There are  many of them out there, people who have inspired generations of kids with very little thanks (or remuneration). 

As I mentioned in my previous piece, Technobabble, today’s kids are not like the kids of yesteryear, hence they are naturally a part of a system which is in constant flux. As are the subjects that are taught, and the curriculum documents adjusted for optimum results (though perhaps not as rapidly or fundamentally as it needs to), so must the teachers readjust themselves and, like any decent medical practitioner, should stay current , motivated and continually curious about their subject matter and how it is perceived in the world around them.

These are the terms and conditions of teaching. As I discussed initially, this does not avail the required transparency that ones needs in order to feel secure and valued, and it is this issue that seems to be plaguing many of the institutions that are “shaping” the youth who in term will be involved in shaping a future society etc etc.

Anyway, it’s not like I have solutions to these issues, and as I said in my first blog, this is just a window into my life and thoughts. My platform on which to rant! If iget it all out here then maybe I can avoid getting cancer from all this pessimistic angsting sitting in ma belly! But that’s a topic for another time.

Have a good week yawl! Don’t stagnate!

Peace,

Anna

TechnoBabble

 

I have recently become very aware of some distinct changes in society.

 Not just in terms of technology, but the actual people. I teach mostly grade 8s and 9s and I’m convinced that they are much more… what’s

the word? I want to say sophisticated but that makes them sound too refined (which in some cases is the very last thing I would label them
as), but they seem like a much older version of how I was at that age.

I was so completely naïve compared to these kids, I mean I was still riding bikes and getting excited about being able to tape my fave songs on the Top 40 on Radio 5 on Saturday mornings, Alex Jay or Barney Simon bloody well talking over the beginning of the song so that you cant ever hear that song without automatically expecting to hear one of them bla-ing on! I still assume that if I hear Come-on Eileen that Lovecats will inevitably be the next track. And when we went out riding around the neighbor hood, playing in the streets, nobody could get hold of us and it was not a bloody crisis.

Cell phones were things that came out of a futuristic sci fi movie, along with hover boards and time machines. Movies which we could watch at an independent movie  theater and not have to deal with an entire hurlingly scary cavernous mall. (I hate malls).

And when we had a school project we looked stuff up in books and painstakingly hand wrote and drew the pictures ourselves. No Internet,
no Wikipedia, no Google! The Horror! This generation has no clue what its like to live without these modern technological must- haves. Grade 9’s are already aware of and experimenting with  drugs, booze, sex etc. 

I was discussing this with some friends the other day and realized that our (my) generation grew up in a very interesting time – on the
cusp of all the modern tools we have these days, tapes and records making way for CD’s and then ipods and mp3’s etc. and we were there for it all.

I will never forget buying my first tape. It was something like Top of the Pops 37 or some such. I think I was 8 years old and all I wanted in life was to own a copy of wake me up before you go go by Wham. So my god father, bless him, took me out to musica and we found this tape that contained the song and many more (not that I cared much about them). I was a short lil shit (back then, you know, cos now I'm towering over everyone)…so I had to stand on my tippy toes to reach the counter. So I held  up the tape to the guy and asked if it was the one with wake me up before you go go on it. what did he do? HE LAUGHED.  Positively guffawed! I was mortified to my back teeth. This was serious stuff you know! But then he did confirm that it was indeed the one I should get. But by then I felt so embarrassed that I wanted to run as far away as possible. Then again, I wanted the tape desperately -, so with burning cheeks I handed over the money and excitedly rushed out of the shop so that I could get home and play it. And play it I did. My poor parents! The only other tape I had at the time was a taped version of the Best of Abba, say no more!

Technology shifts, and so  society shifts with it - but I still think its way sad that kids cant ride their bikes around on their own or play rounders in the road. Not here anyway. Perhaps that is too sweeping a statement, too generalized, but nobody can deny that times have changed what with the rise of the cell phone, media in general and the basic safety of ourselves and our kids. It's sad. Did the horrendous things I hear in the daily news happen when I was little and it wasn't public knowledge or is the absolutely vile and unforgivable  actions perpetrated by some, such as the rape of children, become more common place? In which case, WHY?? Why is society damaging itself more and more all the time? and is it due to our technology. Cos if you think about it something like WAR used to be clans of young and old men battling it out on a field, with swords, knives, and later guns -  whereas now we have nuclear bombs which could obliterate the entire globe.

Makes you think, doesn't it?

Nothing Good

Ag nee man! I got it in to my head somehow that it was Friday (eve) and so had anticipated doing Friday night kinda stuff, not necessarily going out so much as just having a chilled, non week day dread filled evening, sms a friend or two to pop in for a drink, eat junk foodish type vibes. And THEN…sob…I realised it was Thursday! SWAK! Like, really, thee swakkest (looks longingly at six pack [of amstel not stomach muscles {I wish}])

Thee. What is up with this word, cos all my students write ‘thee’ instead of ‘the’? Is this a thing, or are they all just really bad spellers? I thought it was an amusing mannerism when one of them critters used it in a BBM to me (yes! That happens!), but now I see they all write it like that. I am obviously not that down with the lingo no more! Please explain. Thanks.

So I have to admit that I am no longer looking longingly at the six pack because I broke down and am slugging the sweet nectar of the hops - slow brewed and extra matured -  because I have decided to celebrate that it is in fact Thursday and that I can get all ampt for Friday all over again. Or something. Am still working on the exact nature of the justification. Justification! This is where my real talent lies. I can come up with a very believable and diverse listing of excuses to: not attend work, a function, to not leave the house, to eat anything bad, to drink, to not use protection, to spend money on whatever, to sms him/her, to stay  in bed etc So, dear reader, if you ever need help finding a valid sounding reason to do or not to do, anything – I’d be honored to work with/for you on all manner of justification needs you might have, Gratis, for free!

Although jissis I could do with a cash injection round about now. I had to borrow money to buy my meds which I have to take in order to go to work and make-a da moneys. You know mos the drill, ne?

So, on an even heavier note. Someone I kinda know through some people I definitely know, committed suicide this week. I am so very sad about it, sickened, that someone who I always thought of as a confident, lively, life-loving kinda guy resorted to such extremes. I feel sick that I never knew of his suffering or could help or something. It’s so bloody shocking and awful. And to think I have considered it so many times myself, in my freaked out emo moments, of which there have been several. It is just such a hectic thing to do. It’s so…final. How does one, who is in any way related to a person who does this, ever come back from it. I’m devastated and  sickened, and I barely knew him. Being in such a dark space where you can see no relief,  have nobody who you feel would care if you ceased to exist, that is truly shattering.  I know that I have to some been very dark spaces in my head and have had histrionic reactions to some of the slings and arrows that life has thrown at me, but yhoh! To actually carry that yearning for it to stop to the ultimate place is just so very heartbreaking.

Okay now Im depressed. I’m quite sure that I deserve to have another cold one. You know, cos, like, Im sad and stuff and I need to erm , you know, stop, feeling, so…and like beer is like …awesome and stuff.

Also, if you are reading this, you probably need one too, so go ahead, Ill wait here while you procure this elixir of delight. By the way, I apologise for the dark nature of where I got to in this piece, and hope you do not feel too disturbed or bothered, or agonisingly indifferent, there we go, have a beer, you deserve it now. Shame.

Due to the nature of what this blog ended up being about I’m just gonna leave it here, cos anything I write now will come across as trite or unsympathetic.

Be good, and Happy Thursday

Anna

A Little Academic Rant

In which I talk about Teaching with Curiosity and Vulnerability

Last year when I was doing my PGCE , one of my assignments was to write an essay based on a quote by Joseph Mc Donald who contemplates the questions we often ask ourselves, our subject matter, and about our students:  What shall I teach amid all that I might teach? How can I grasp it myself so that my grasping may enable theirs? What are they thinking and feeling – toward me, toward each other, toward the thinking I am trying to teach? How near should I come, how far off should I stay?

This links up nicely to what I was writing about in Chips, Rice or Baked Potatoe where I speak about how I see the learners as individuals and take the relationship I have with them past the boundaries of the subject I teach and even out of school entirely. 

The premise of my essay was basically about how it is so important to maintain ones own curiosity about a subject; it is this curiosity that will bring about the imaginative ideas and it is this curiosity that will bring about the most passion for the subject, the most satisfaction and the most attentiveness from your students. For them to be aware that you are a fallible human being and not as a know-it-all ATM of knowledge. That you too are seeking to know more about the world and the subjects you teach. And the more passion and genuine curiosity you show and feel the more it will interest them into the subject too. Ideally anyway!

For a student to see this fallible side of you, for he or she to think you are “just like me” one needs to display some vulnerability in the classroom, provided of course, it is appropriate for you to do so. This vulnerability is by no means a lack of control (over students or subject matter), or a state of woundedness, for me it is rather the lack of arrogance, a humility which to my mind, if coupled with passion and curiosity, will be the optimum stance for a teacher to take with a class in order to facilitate learning and personal growth.

It’s easy to forget that teaching is a relationship. Vulnerability is an essential part of building trust and authenticity in the teaching relationship (and of any relationship Id say). It is after all not a class one is teaching but a group of individuals, of souls and hearts, and those are what need to be reached. Our students need to know that we, as teachers, continue to be students, and that learning is a lifelong pursuit.

It must be noted at this point that this most assuredly does not mean you lose your authority in the classroom. As McDonald pointed out in an email to me: “The chemistry of the triangle creates incessant uncertainty, though of course, teachers have to act with authority despite the uncertainty.” (2011) 

What I think he is saying is that, as a teacher one is still the ever-present director, or aid, but not necessarily the sage. I like to think of a teacher as an orchestral conductor, ever summoning, enhancing or lulling the tempo of the music of a class, designing the program or show rather than being it. It’s a symbiosis of sorts where neither (nor the learning) could exist without the other.

To extend this metaphor, it may be useful to picture a conductor / teacher, standing in front of his orchestra / class channeling all these emotions, sometimes through his face, sometimes through his whole body. Praising, admonishing, encouraging collaboration and harmony till noise becomes music. Chaos becomes order. Knowledge is instilled.

Sometimes the directing gestures are grandiose and expansive, other times it could be the very slightest expression change or nod of the head. It is this type of intuition that is needed between a teacher and a class, and this has to be initiated by you (me) as a teacher.Sometimes it is listening, sometimes reacting, sometimes acting or a combination of all of these, which will bring the harmony. It is the questions that we ask ourselves, as seen in McDonald’s quote, that give us the time signature, the key, the clef and tempo in a piece of music.

What do you think?

The Shopping Truth

You know, for a girl, I really suck at shopping. Due to my bloody agoraphobia I either shop when I’ve had a couple of toots in which case I buy things according to how pretty they are and I will inevitably come home with strawberries, chocolate biscuits, highly overpriced coffee, and sticky buns instead of toilet paper, potatoes, bread, milk and stuff you can make actual meals out of.

And if I’m not sufficiently tooted up I run anxiously around like a frikkin fruit fly and just chuck the essentials in (bread, marmite, handy andy) and come home with nothing fun and quite frankly not much to make meals out of either. The up side of this is that I am forced to become very creative in order to make stomach-able meals out of precious little and I've got quite good at it. When there are only really very mismatched things in the fridge, I tell my daughter that its bits n pieces which I have heartily regaled to her was something that my mom used to do as a treat for my sister and I – which we totally fell for.  My child doesn't quite fall for it; she is way too sophisticated in her reasoning, and makes this known through her facial expression when I hand it to her, a tentative smile playing on my lips. She is very kind hearted so she eats it and then asks very sweetly for dessert. Panic! How about a pear? Results in the look, only her eyeballs move and her lips are a straight line – you know the one?  Depending on her mood she either sighs and grouches and turns her eyes back to Family Guy or some other completely inappropriate series OR wails that she wants to live with her Dad rather! I've learned to not shout or cry now.

There is nothing quite as depressing as having an empty fridge or larder. And it doesn’t matter how many times I open the fridge, there is still no magic food fairy that has restocked it since 2 minutes ago. It really makes me very sad. Especially when I am genuinely hungry and not just work avoiding or bored or cross or overtired or or or….

The other thing I am almost genuinely allergic to is putting the newly washed clothes into my cupboard. Unless I have a cleaning lady come in every now and then, it stays in a bundle on a chair in my room and gets entangled with the dirty clothes. And what’s particularly amazing about this is that the pile is massive and yet I still don’t have anything to wear that looks in any way presentable. Hence how my style is much like my food – bits n pieces thrown together in a creatively constructive way that hides the ever increasing bulges, bruises,  and of course the tattoos – cos school principals don’t dig on the body art so much, namean?

I’ve always found that cleaning a clean house is so much more enjoyable than a dirty dished, fruit fly filled, heaps of crap kinda house. Funny that! So often I will embark on a little rearrangement and sorting once the poor, long suffering cleaning lady has dealt with the basics.

I love rearranging my house. I could never live with a blind person cos they would hate me. So I don’t. Live with a blind person I mean. I get into a total flurry of I want to move this all immediately, by myself or with whomever happens to be in a shout-able radius,  and it must must must be done NOW. (geez I sound like an industry bitch), so I invariably strain every muscle in my back and need a week of traction. Oh also I break stuff by being too eager and bull-in-a-china-shop-ish. Every time. Who was it that said that the definition of stupidity is doing the same thing again and again and expecting different results? Einstein I think? He would definitely have had a field day with me as his lab-rat.

Anyway, Im off to look in the fridge. Again.

Take care,

Anna

Lights: Camera: Inaction

What’s fabulous about a blog is that I can totally entertain the idea of my childhood fantasy of my life being a TV sitcom - ala that movie with that guy* you know that one? Man, I could hear the soundtrack! See the running titles. My name in lights! (My mother used to describe me to her friends as her little Sarah Bernard – personally I don’t see it.)

Scene 1: Camera close up of floral design, it moves suddenly showing that it is the fabric of a duvet cover. Alarm clock groans. A hand reaches out presses snooze button. Silence for a few moments then the clock goes off again. This repeats for 20 or so minutes.

So far, this episode is about as interesting as one of those pretentious Art happenings where one has to stare at a guy sitting on a chair looking into the middle distance.

But if this is a true reflection of my life, it is extraordinarily true to form. Post Apocalyptic, Post Post Modern Realism?

 Of course we swerve way off to the left of realism or truth once I am in the picture. In my fantasy, I look like a tousled Meg Ryan sashaying sexily semi clad off to the perfect water pressured shower when in actual fact I have a messy nest of greasy hair and a crumpled disdain for the day, etched into my freckled, blemished face. And a shower that is either scalding hot or a pukey luke-warm that just makes one itchy. That’s the other thing my mom used to say (still does at any opportunity): I’m a total villain in the mornings. Okay so I don’t do mornings so well, I admit it, but I still think she is the original drama queen whose first born spawn was the apple closest to the tree. Takes one to know one, right?

Anyway let me not labor this metaphor any more than I have already. What I am getting at is that writing a personal blog like this is a great way of presenting the best of yourself – the Meg Ryan stylish bed head as opposed to the petulant girl in mismatched pajamas. Of course I don’t think I could possibly get away with it – I’m far to outwardly emo (not the skinny jeans and bowtie type) and wear my heart on my sleeve – I wont be able to  help myself from spewing out the occasional (?) howl of misery, frustration or anxious diatribe which will give it away that I am in fact not the shining star of my own sitcom, but more of an antihero who lives her underachieving life as a prisoner to her overwhelming fears and insecurities. FUN!

But stick around – I promise to make fun of myself with my usual dry attempt at wit and will in all probability make you feel a lot better about yourself.

Big Up,

Anna

*Jim Carrey in The Truman Show

CHIPS, RICE OR BAKED POTATO?

Why the title? What’s up with the carbs?                              

 The answer is simple. I have a BA degree and only the tacky golden arches of US owned McDonalds offer fries with that. Get it?  And fries they are, thin, tasteless wafers of cardboard poached in the ill-gotten overused oil derivative from whence whocares. Lets not go there now.

Now the aptly named slap chips found in the Cape are natures way of saying “baby, transfats may be bad but damn girrrrrl! how can something this yummo be outlawed?”  Surely this vinegary soaked melt in your mouth yumness is a gift straight from the goddess herself.

But I digress.

Having the combined lethargy of living and growing up in Cape Town and achieving an arts degree from UCT, I obviously did my fair share of waitressing and barladying, hence the title.  I did consider calling it “ Another Round There Guys?” but decided it would be non-inclusive and age restrictive so I went with the food option - which is halaal, kosher, vegetarian, vegan friendly etc – and no trace element of nuts or whatever.   And if you want to bolemify* after reading this that’s okay with me – I’m not judging.

I also use the fact that I majored in English to feel that I have earned the right to make up words (such as *bolemify, which turns the adjective into to verb - meaning to throw up after eating/ reading,) – my poetic license you might say. Bonafide.

After years of indecision and middle class guilt, I naturally turned to the film industry or, as pasty, pretentious production managers call it “the industry”. (as if it’s self important, frenzied, need-this-done-yesterday-ness is what is keeping South Africa’s precarious economy afloat.) I never fell for it though. Thanks to my lefty liberalist parents I have always had a “could be so much worse” style of seeing the world (eat your peas there are starving kids in Ethiopia who would give their right arm for them) and the potential global disaster of someone arriving on set 2 min late just never felt globally disastery enough for me to really give a fuck. So I left. Eventually. After 10 years. With nothing to show from it. #facepalm       

With much fear, trepidation, teeth gritting, loin girding, and financial support from Dad ( to whom I shall dedicate this blog as a down payment to the substantial loan) I Jammie shuttled my way back to UCT;15 years after graduating; to do a Post Grad Certificate in Education[PGCE], to become ..dun dun dun…a teacher. I've been told by a number of people for years that I would be an amazing teacher, but I resisted and rallied against it due to the fact that I loathed school with its petty rules and regulation (nylon) socks and wanted no part in perpetuating the rot (my favorite phrase). I hated the smell of school corridors – sort of a peanut butter meets cheap disinfectant meets vomit stink. I hated the sound of the bell, even if it occasionally meant we could leave after it, there were still 11 or so bells before that – signaling us to move from one tired drudgery to the next. I wanted no part of it.

What changed? Well, I’ve been trying to figure that out all year. Studying again was fantastic – I took in so much more than the first time round and actually relished (okay relish is a strong word) but I took some pleasure in writing essays and attending lectures. People perpetually ask me “so why did you decide to go into teaching?” and I invariably stutter out some altruistic catch phrase like – “I get on well with young people” or “It’s the least I can do to effect real change” blah blah fishpaste. But to be honest I think I agreed to go into it because it was a) something I am already half qualified to do, b)I don’t have any other realistic ideas, c) it is something of a global passport should I ever manage to leave this place and finally d) I was really quite drunk when I agreed to do it. (not my fault).

So now I’m a teacher. Talk about global disasteryness. I have to admit though, I kinda dig it. I do in fact get along well with young people, and that the fact that education in this country is in such shattered tatters, maybe, just maybe I can make a difference – even if it’s to one kid at a time. Hells! Is this a whiff of altruism mixing with the peanut buttery odor that has become my life?

People in the Education industry have almost as much self importance as in the film industry but this time its really quite valid – in some instances anyway. Behind the chest puffing, the endless meetings about meetings, and the implicit hierachry within a school, these people have made the decision to do one of the most vital of tasks in society – to educate the youth. Even if one looks at it as a form of artful colonization, the fact that these people are there, earning what they are (pitifully) means that there is or was some passion and compassion in their hearts and minds. Hey! Me too!

It’s really like any other System. You have to deal with a ton of bureaucratic bullshit before any real change or progression can be demonstrated, which naturally leads to stagnation and mistrust in teachers and school administrators. I’ve been teaching for less than a year now and already I find myself weary and disillusioned. What helps me get up at such a god-awful time in the morning every day, is the relationships I have made. I adore my learners. They are not just a sea of vacuous faces waiting to be fed knowledge. In fact most of them couldn’t give a damn about gaining any knowledge at all – but I have made an (initially unconscious) effort to know them individually, to have a relationship with them that goes beyond school and overdue essays and DT’s.

I worry a lot that this may be a ridiculously naive approach which could lead to either me burning out completely after a year or two ; or the learners literally treating me only as a peer and not someone they should respect, who is worthy to be learned from. And shouted at by.  However any other way of approaching this would be forced for me. This is my natural way – and probably why all those people urged me to start teaching in the first place. We shall see soon enough.

My intention for this blog is not to make it all about the politics of education and  potentially dry, academic debate, but just to open a window to it as part of my life and thoughts, whims and musings.

Later,

Anna