Out of place?

My mum once asked me whether I felt out of place in Poland. And, increasingly, I feel like I do.

There are certain things I've got so used to having within my reach and it's difficult when these are taken away from me, even for two weeks. In Poland there are plenty of things that I cannot so easily get, whereas I can find them everywhere in the UK.

Like caffeine-free tea and coffee. It's just not a thing here. Natural and organic cosmetics cannot be so easily found there either. Hummus! Reasonably priced hummus. And all other strange things I consume in insane qualities. Saying good morning to strangers on the street. Being exceptionally kind.

But it's not only groceries and social norms, it's also the language. I think in English, write in English, even pray in English (though this is slightly more complicated, I swiftly move between the two languages in my prayer). Controversially,  when I want to speak from the heart, I will default to English. And it's the culture. I got used to orderly queues, overt politeness, compulsive apologising and weather conversations.

England became home. Though not quite. It's complicated. I wish I had a place where I could say that I truly belong. England is fantastic, but it's more like a foster home. Poland became alien and incomprehensible. And so I feel out of place in Poland, and sometimes also here. It's a strange feeling.

I might actually have started idealising England. I might have. But I've spent my entire adult life there so far. My hopes and dreams originated and were fulfilled here. Here I was loved. Here I'm constantly getting happier.

It's my place, and everywhere else I feel out of place.

This special time of the year.

This Christmas I wish us all to be able to slow down. To be in the moment and really appreciate the beauty of each day given to us.

May we judge less and love more. May we be less concerned with what others think and more mindful of what we really want. May be know what is  truly important, and let go of the unimportant. May we always have a smile for a stranger. May we be kinder to each other. May we bring love to places where there is hate, hope to those who despair, and faith to the doubting.

May this Christmas be calm and bright, like in the carol.

Sunday Special comes late: The desert shall blossom.

This is the outcome of the retreat I attended last weekend. I consider it an incredible blessing that I was able to spend some time with other Christians and just be there without any other responsibility. No excuses, no maybe laters.

I've signed up for it, because I felt like I need to do something holy this Advent. My religious life hasn't been in the best shape recently, so I needed something to give me a little nudge.

The thing that I didn't know, was that the retreat was silent.

Well, that was unexpected.

I'm an introvert, so what's the problem, you ask? Well, being silent in the evening after a busy day in school is one thing. Being silent for pretty much whole day is another.

There was a reflection first, which gave me a fair amount of food for thought, but after half an hour of sitting in the chapel quietly my mind started drifting off to all sorts of places.

It was time for a change, so off I went to the barn, where I could use arts and crafts in prayer. Hence the drawing with the quote from Isaiah 35.

Then, I've decided to go for a walk in the surrounding, since  sitting quietly in one place was just too much to take. At least now I had some background sound of birds and passing cars. A considerable improvement.

Thankfully, they gave us a choice at lunch whether we wanted to have a conversation over the meal or would rather remain silent. Apparently previous retreats had normal lunch where you could just talk, but people found it hard to come back to silence in the afternoon, hence the choice this time.

It was actually such a relief to be able to speak to another human being! I wouldn't have thought that I would ever say it, but it was lovely to hear another person's voice.

Thankfully, a young sister living with this community arrived by then and she suggested a walk around the castle and sharing time. I then realised how much I miss talking about religion, talking about the love of God and just being around people who have the same Christian vocabulary. It is such a powerful moment: when a bunch of strangers from all walks of live and of different ages, who in normal circumstances wouldn't have anything in common, comes together and shares what binds them together: faith.

Am I happy that I went on this retreat? Very much so. Was it a challenge? Definitely. But I finally had time to pray and hopefully will keep it up now. I have so many little moments during the day which could be devoted to prayer and I'm desperate to make most of them. Because only then the desert will blossom.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

I love giving presents! This is one of the most enjoyable parts of Christmas.

This year I actually feel on the top of things, since I've got presents for pretty much everyone now, and it's still two weeks until Christmas. It means that I can dedicate this fortnight to planning food preparation, outfits and New Year's Eve trip. It will be busy at home just before Christmas, especially that I only come back for a short while and need to get so much done! 

I have a stack of little things for Mr Magic in the corner of my room and I simply can't wait to give them all to him. I can barely contain myself and it's so hard not to tell him what it is I got for him!

In the meantime I need to content myself with wrapping presents and sticking bows on them.

Other Christmas updates:

Our house house has gained a Christmas spirit last week, with a Christmas tree being finally put up, after almost a week of obstructing the way through the living room.

I really like it, because it looks almost classy (despite the plastic baubles) . Unlike this restaurant in London. Mind, the picture was taken in mid-November.

Mince meat is safely stored in the suitcase, ready to be taken back home.  It's probably the only English Christmas tradition that I'm willing to export to Poland. Because mince pies are delicious.

Christmas tea towels and slippers have been taken out of the cupboard and are given a new life this year. It's probably a little tacky, but who cares when you can have a set of home accessories with reindeers and snowflakes. 

Reading spot.

This is my little reading spot. I've discovered it on the way back from church one Sunday and now I go there pretty much every week to spend some quality me time reading. 

It's absolutely perfect, because:

1. it has a sea-view;
2. it doesn't require me to walk down the cliff to enjoy it.

I'm currently reading a bizarre book All that man is by David Szalay. I've read 100 odd pages so far and I'm not entirely sure what to make of it. It's definitely interesting, but the writing style is so different from what I am used to. Maybe it's just because I'm not used to reading novels in English. My experience of English-language literature is fairly limited: mostly to academic books and journals. It's definitely time to broaden my horizons.

The only thing that I need now is a big flask to take with me when I go there: the afternoons are getting really cold and even in my really attractive winter hat and red gloves I still feel rather cold on that bench. It's probably time for an upgrade of my outdoor reading experience.

Off sick :(

And so it finally happened. I had to phone in and say that I'd be off sick. Well, actually my housemate had to phone in, because I've lost my voice and was barely able to whisper.

I've realised that I would never actually admit to being sick enough not to go to work. I'm just that sort of a person. Mr Magic said that even if I would be throwing up I would still go in and just ask the children to hold my hair as I would still try to carry on with the lesson. I do feel like I'm letting my little ones down by not being there and not pushing through with the material. But at the same time, it won't help if I'm off sick for a week rather than just a day. 

And so I've pleased Mr Magic more than myself and had a day off.

As it stands, it's my second day of being sick, sipping lemsip (yuck!), drinking hot tea all day and trying to keep as warm as possible. I've run out of films to watch now, so I've made some progress on my colouring page, hoovered the room and organised my diary. My next low-impact project involves making a under the weather box full of supplies that help you survive a cold.

I temporarily refuse to do any work at all, partly because my brain feels like a jelly, partly because I've realised that I actually don't need to. I'm putting ridiculous number of hours into this job for five days every week, I do deserve some time off during the weekend (especially in my current state). This is probably one of the biggest eye-openers: I do enough. No need to stress out so much about lesson planning, marking etc. There is enough time during the working week. It's just a matter of prioritising.

Achoo!

A fleeting visit.

I went up to Oxford for a couple of days last weekend and I must admit it was a slightly strange experience.

The thing is, Oxford doesn't change.* And although many of my friends have left, there are still a couple who stuck around. But I'm coming to realise how much I've moved on since I've graduated: student life is long gone and Oxford bubble have finally burst, letting some air in.

It was nonetheless really nice to be back. At least because I got a chance to get some shopping done and eat an amazing pie in the Covered Market. And to tell my friends how happy I am now. Without sitting in the library all day. With young people around me all the time.

And I've realised that I don't actually miss Oxford. I do miss people a lot, but not the place itself. I'm really content with my life as it is now. I might not have a Lebanese deli round a corner or a plethora of little patisseries, but I have the sea five minutes away from the house.

That is enough to keep me content for the next couple of years.

* This is not entirely true, since St Anne's College finally has a modern library and it looks surprisingly good. At least the scaffolding is gone which is great.

Sunday Special: Loving, leaving and finding the Church.

Loving, leaving and finding the Church is the title of one of the best spiritual books I've read in my life.

I love this book, because it has reminded me that faith is a journey. I'm a bit of a perfectionist, so I would like to get everything tight from the very beginning. But it's not like that with faith. We're only people, and, although I have some friends who are truly holy and it sometimes feels like they've nailed it already at the age of 20-something, I need time to figure things out. And it frustrates me, because I would like to just nail here. Here and now. But it's not possible.

"Baptism reminds us that there's no ladder to holiness to climb, no self-improvement plan to follow. It's just death and resurrection, over and over again, day after day as God reaches down into our deepest graves and with the same power that raise Jesus from the dead wrests us from our pride, our apathy, our fear, our prejudice, our anger, our hurt, and our despair.

This is the passage from the book that touched me the most:

"There are recovery programs for people grieving the loss of a parent, sibling, ot spouse. You can buy books on how to cope with the death of a beloved pet or work through anguish of miscarriage. We speak openly with one another about the bereavement that can accompany a layoff, a move, a diagnosis or a dream deferred. But no one really teaches you hot to grieve the loss of your faith. You're on your own for that."

Rachel talks about Sunday mornings, when she went to church, as being one of the most lonely times during the week. And I can relate to that. I have more questions than I've received answers. I'm somewhat between leaving and finding now. It feels like I've never truly got lost anywhere. I know where I am.

The Island, as lovely as it is, leaves me spiritually starving. The masses are only in the morning, and I struggle to get to them. There are no groups for young adults here to share faith, meals and conversations. The parishioners are lovely, but they are all in the autumn of their lives and I can't relate to them. There are no events like Nightfever here, music during services is rubbish and I can't understand the priest because of his accent. It is not a happy places for me. Feels like 40 days in the desert. Only that there's been far more of those days than 40. We're going into a second hundred now. Not a happy place.

What I really need now is a kiss of God on my bruises. Not a grand reopening of my faith. Although I would love to be burning for Jesus again, a little nudge and and a warm touch would be enough for the time being. And then I could try building up the fruits of the Spirit:  love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

Little Kat in big London.

People laugh that some islanders never leave the island to go to the mainland, but I don't blame them.

I got so used to the Island life that I almost got through a culture shock when I went to London yesterday.

I've arrived at London Waterloo, met by so many people rushing around, it felt like I wouldn't be able to deal with it. I then got lost trying to find the North bound Northern Line platform, despite the fact that I've spent one whole summer working nearby and I could have go round Waterloo with my eyes closed.

Then, the Tube. Gosh, I've never liked travelling this way, and I will still avoid it at all cost. Did you know that the Island Line,  the only railway connection on the Isle of Wight uses 10 carriages from the Northern Line, dating back to 1938? Using the Island Line regularly didn't change it. Especially that the Tube is so much busy. Even late in the evening it was quite busy: our little line is only that busy just before and just after the school day, when all the children travel to school. All other times it's so quiet. The only upside of the Tube as compares to our train is that it's carriages travel nice and smoothly, whereas using those dated coaches is quite an experience (you need to experience it yourself, it's quite difficult to explain).

Island Line. Not the Tube.

Going through the streets of London during night hours was nothing like walking round where I live. My Little town gets empty in the late afternoon. In London, There were more people out on the streets at 8am than there are people in the centre of Newport on a Saturday.

But only in London I would be able to drink coffee and eat porridge in an old Victorian public convenience.

By the way, I really recommend the Attendant, it's a little quirky place, they have really nice coffee and yummy blueberry porridge. 

Or have a plethora of choice in terms of Japanese and healthy food outlets.

In any case, I'm so glad to be back to my little place. City life is not for me. One day away is enough. Now back to the sleepiness and slow pace of island life. And the sea.

Things I still haven't worked out.

How to peel a butternut squash injury-free? --- I love squash, but every time I'm trying to peel it, the effect is my sustaining some hand injuries. There was not a single time when I managed to cut the squash and peel it without cutting myself. It is just a hopeless case. 

Why is a 60-minutes washing machine programme in fact 90-minutes long? ---Like, honestly, it's never 60 minutes. Ever.

Why do people go to the gym to use a treadmill if they could go to a park and jog there? --- You can probably tell that I'm not a gym enthusiast. I don't even get why Mr Magic is so keen to spend an hour a day spinning. I do enjoy a swim every so often, 

Is eating organic food any better for you and the environment? --- I've always assumed that it was, but apparently there are many downsides, like inefficient use of land. It's utterly confusing.

?

Why do so many people have this burning need to be in a group whatever they do? --- I have a  chance to observe it on a daily basis, especially among young adults and I simply don't get it. I mean, I do get that we want to have a sense of belonging, but I really can't understand why it is necessary to do absolutely everything with someone else by your side. I'm comfortable eating lunch on my own, going shopping on my own, having a walk on my own, and all sorts of other stuff. I don't need someone tagging along all the time.

Why do I have such a sweet tooth? --- I cannot say no to chocolate. Or biscuits. This is why I had to put the box of amaretti on the top of my wardrobe. But some people don't really like sweet things. What's wrong with them? I just do no get it at all... Equally, I don't get why I love sweet things so much. I could almost live on chocolate.

Why people think that 'I didn't have time' is a legitimate excuse? --- We all know these people. They will not reply to messages or emails for weeks. Or will not do what they promised to do before the deadline. Because they didn't have time. Sure. But you do have time to spend an our scrolling through facebook. Or to binge watch a tv series. So no excuses. But you still make them! Why? why? why?

Bookshelf.

I finally have a bookshelf! And it means that all my books could move from the floor, an odd cardboard box and my desk to their proper place.

I've realised that there are really two things I spend my money on: food and books. I absolutely love cooking and baking, so I don't try to get by on baked beans on toast. My fridge needs to be filled with delicious food: veggies, cheeses, fruit, whatever you can think of. 5 a day is a must.

Books are my second passion. At the moment it's mostly books about teaching and Maths. I have a whole stack of books that are waiting to be read. Here is my little stack:

Talk-Less Teaching is on the menu at the moment: it's extremely informative and includes plenty of handy advice which will help me to become a better teacher (and to look after my voice a bit better).

I've noticed that, sadly, novels do not feature in my reading list that high, so I've bought a book which was longlisted for the Booker Prize and hopefully will find some time to read it soon.

Travelling from (and around) the Island is time consuming so I use it for reading, in an attempt to make most of a boring commute. And my new resolution is to spend 20 minutes each day reading. It will give me over two hours reading time each week. We'll see how it goes with a busy teacher's schedule.

Not so happy Halloween.

Happy Halloween! said Google when I opened the browser today. The thing is, it's actually not Halloween today, today is Oct 10th and as far as I can tell, Halloween is on the 31st. 

Also, there is nothing happy about Halloween. Or is there? Maybe I've just missed the point. Maybe scary glowing pumpkins with carved oversized eyes and teeth are actually funny? And skeletons. Well, it doesn't get much better than decorating your garden with remains of dead people. Oh, and I would have forgotten the ghosts. Yeah, they are surely fun too, jumping out of nowhere with a not at all frightening boo!

You see, I'm not into Halloween at all. Putting aside all the religious reasons, I just consider it a completely pointless "celebration".

Why celebrate death and all things horrible and spooky? Somehow it is acceptable to dress up as a serial killer for the occasion, but in what sort of a world we live that this is considered funny? Shouldn't we condemn everything that condones acts and attitudes which are destructive to the society? But instead, for Halloween, the moral value of these does not matter. We put in the cupboard all the objections to murder, torture, animal sacrifice and witchcraft. All of a sudden, for one night in a year, all these are perfectly fine. And, lo!, there are even sweets involved! (or alcohol, depending on the age bracket)

Not to mention the fact that I don't see any reason why celebrating death can have any appeal at all. Death is not funny at all, despite what the image search on Google can lead you to believe. Let the dead rest in peace. Pray for them, light candles in their memory or sponsor a park bench with their name on it. But please don't dress up as our dearly departed. It's in a very bad taste. It's as if we were dressing up as people with cancer or other terrible disease. You wouldn't do that, would you?

Commercialised as they are, Christmas and Easter at least celebrate something, or rather someone, Jesus. Halloween is completely pointless, there is no spirituality or other justification behind it. It is yet another way of making us spend money. Because obviously you need orange-wrapped chocolates for the occasion, right? Oh, and don't forget the pumpkins. Pumpkins are actually seasonal vegetable in the UK in October, but this doesn't seem to be a good enough reason for supermarkets to sell them. No, what is necessary is to place the pumpkins in a box with bats and spiders on it to increase its appeal.

There's nothing happy about Halloween. Full stop. I have nothing more to say on that matter. Enjoy your Sunday. And Monday. Without the cobwebs, skeletons and black cats.

Job description.

Since I’ve started teaching in September, I’ve definitely performed duties that go much beyond those written in my job description.

I’ve become a life coach and an advisor.

A house painter, a bouncer and a jester.

A crowd-controller, a multi-tasking guru and a protector.

A mediator, a sweet dispenser and a self esteem boosting machine.

I’ve mastered the skill of using all the possible setting on the photocopier and the skill of resurrecting the connection between my laptop and the smartboard.

My body has been used as a number line slider, arms of a crocodile inequality sign and other impromptu learning resources.

I’ve become an improvisation expert, a more attentive listener and a fluent conversationalist with my gut feeling.

I’ve also grown to appreciate the power of tea to carry you through a long day.

This is what being a teacher is really like. Teaching is my main job. But really there is much much more to it. And this is what I love so much about it.

Tissue mountain.

A week until half term, and my body seems to have given up. Waking up at 5:30am, long hours at work and little time for myself has taken its toll on me.

The end of my first seven weeks in school is in sight, but I feel like I will crawl towards it rather than run joyfully into a brief freedom.

As the mountain of used tissues continues to build up in my bedroom, so does the mountain of work. I have my PGCE essay due in a couple of weeks, but it's hard to try to recover from the illness, mark homework, plan lessons, do some reading and sort out everything for school at the same time. Hopefully after half term life will become easier, if only because I will actually know what I'm doing. Though they did warn me that it will be tough.

I'm so drugged up with paracetamol and the like that I'm not sure to what extent I will be able to teach tomorrow, but hopefully by period 2 my brain will clear up a bit and turn into a teacher mode. At the moment it feels like a sponge or a mini whiteboard rubber.

On a side note, highlights from last week include using plickers with my lovely year 7s, TF conference day and carrot cake. Carrot cake is delicious. Conference was quite helpful, but I shall give an update on it once I have time (and ability) to put my thoughts in some coherent order.

Being attacked by a cold monster in my bed. Obviously.

Sunday Special: More love in the classroom. That's all.

Last Sunday Bishop Philip issued a pastoral letter that was read out in every church of the Portsmouth diocese.  Putting aside my views on reading out letters instead of giving a homily for a moment, there was something else that has really made me think. 

The letter implies that it's really important to be "drawing in Catholic teacher not currently in the Catholic sector" No, no, no. What use of more Catholic teachers in Catholic schools? Pupils there already receive a good formation, they often have daily mass, reflection time, built-in prayer during the day and a chaplain at hand. Being a Catholic teacher might help you to fit in and really subscribe to the spirituality of the school, but I don't think this brings any added benefit to your young people.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of Catholic schools. But since not every school in the world is Catholic, I feel like it is increasingly important to have Catholic teachers in non-Catholic schools. Of course all teachers should be kind, understanding and committed to the wellbeing and success of their students, but those who believe in Jesus have a special responsibilities as those who have seen the Light. We shouldn't expect any less from ourselves as apostoles than making sure every child we encounter, and every member of staff, regardless of where we are placed, sees that we bring a message of love.

I don't think we need more Catholic teachers in Catholic schools. We need more love in every single classroom in the country. That's all.

Little gems.

Isle of Wight has a lot of little gems scattered around. I had an opportunity to explore some of these amazing places during summer, so I thought I would share my findings in case anyone still thinks that there is nothing interesting on the Island.

Shanklin Old Village

Walk down High Street in Shanklin past a ridiculous number of places selling fossils and you will eventually end up in the Old Village. It's full of thatched cottages, some of them dating back to 1600s I believe. It's rather unusual to have so many thatched houses preserved in the same place. Really worth a visit. I particularly recommend, the Old Thatched Teashop.

Why on earth would I recommend a pink teashop with a different colour scheme in every room which makes you dizzy? Well, because of the fairies.

In the garden behind the shop there is a true fairies heaven. It looks incredible. There are little houses, animals, and tens of fairies of different sizes. Even if the shop did not sell cream tea, it would be worth a visit just to see the fairies garden.

The Needles

Go to the opposite end of the Island and you end up by the Needles. It's a beautiful place with 21 colours of sand, an opportunity to take a boat tour (or a jet boat tour, which I don't recommend if you are not a fan of extreme adventures). Mr Magic and I had a lovely day there, sitting at the beach, eating frozen yoghurt, walking around and generally enjoying ourselves.

Carisbrooke Castle

One word: amazing. We were lucky enough to visit the Castle when a Medieval Joust was taking place. It was a such a great day, full of story-telling, falconry, medieval jokes and beautiful surroundings. I think we've been there on the hottest day of summer too, so I was really impressed with the knights in their shiny armour, must have been boiling hot in that!

Osbourne House

It might not be the most exciting place, but surely it's really pretty on a Sunday afternoon. The gardens are absolutely huge, there is an opportunity to sit at the seaside where Queen Victoria would have gone for a swim and a little cafe serves really nice cakes and scones. 

Steephill Cove

Apparently this is one of the most secluded places on the Isle of Wight. I can vouch for that: when Mr Magic took me there I thought I would kill him, because it's quite far out of Ventnor and it was at the end of a long day at the Needles. Anyway, it is a really picturesque place, worth a visit should you be down that end of the Island. Peaceful.

Wight Karting

I'm an extremely careful driver, so I haven't thought karting would be so much fun. But I loved the speed. Shame the track only has one place where you can actually overtake, but I wholeheartedly recommend it.

I still have a few places on the island that I would like to see:
Shanklin Chine Lumiere
Isle Jump Trampoline Park
The Garlic Farm - Garlic Festival
But these need to wait for half term or an evening off (ha ha).

3 weeks in, still in love with the job.

It's been quite on here again! Teaching is an immense time commitment, it turns out. I might be teaching a maximum of five hours a day, but when you factor in all the planning, creating powerpoints, finding resources, printing handouts, marking and attending meetings, you get up to an almost 12 hour day.

My working days might be long and there's always more work to be done than time for it, but I love every minute of it. (I think I've said it before, but I just want to emphasise how happy I am now)

I'm so glad that I've chosen teaching over any other career. It's the best job in the world.

I've experienced a lightbulb moments with my students, seen them being extremely proud of their achievements, I was called their favourite teacher and some entrusted me with their troubles and worries.

I wouldn't change anything, except maybe adding a couple of hours to the day so I can get some more sleep. The only day when I can lie in is Saturday, and I'm trying to make the most of it.

My other relaxation involves swimming, Zumba, watching crime drama, reading about Maths (though Mr Magic disputes whether it truly counts as leisure activity), and baking. Baking is a big one, my most recent creation is an insanely good chocolate cheesecake. I think I'm spoiling my housemates a bit too much with all these baked goodies, but at least I have people to share with: otherwise my waistline would not be happy with me.

I went off to Southampton for a call back day and it was so nice to catch up with other Mathematicians doing TF and share ideas. It's amazing how many different things can be done to influence your teaching and in how many different ways I can organise my classroom, my teaching and my planning to be a better teacher for my students. I will try to incorporate some things I picked up yesterday. My most recent changes include challenge questions incorporated into slides so that my most able year 7s feel stretched enough. I also need to reconsider how I store my mini whiteboards. another teacher just taped it to the side of the tables and I might do it as well  to maximise desk space, but this requires some preparation.

It seems like I'm making a progress and everything is slowly coming together. Behaviour is improving, my planning does not take ages and students are getting more engaged. Life is good.

Found in a train toilet on the way from Portsmouth.

Back to school.

I've survive my first week in school! Although survive might not be the best word to describe my experience, since I've actually loved every minute of it.

It was a really busy few days, filled with running around to sort my classroom out, trying to get my IT equipment to work, frantically printing out stuff for classes I forgot about, learning how to use SIMS and a thousand different little bits and pieces that I need every day to get through those few hours of the day without a major hiccup.

My classroom has undergone a little transformation: the tables are in rows rather than pods and some stuff gone up onto the display boards. I'm doing my best not to clutter the room, I know that it can be difficult to concentrate if you have a lot of stuff going on on the walls around you. So I'll try to keep it simple. I have a few quotes about mistakes around the room, I want my students to embrace making mistakes.

I've taught six lessons and met four out of five of my classes. It's amazing how much you learn on the job. I now know where the more naughty ones sit, that there are a few who try to go by without doing any work, so I need to give them a little nudge. I must say that children constantly amaze me. In my first lesson with year 7s, we had a discussion about whether there is the first (or the last) number and whether one is a prime number. Not bad for a bunch of 11 year olds. I've also taught them how the binary system works and was surprise how many of them really wanted to learn, persisting until they've understood the process. I must say that my year 7s seem to be very different from some of my year 8s who just give up when they see something unfamiliar. I really hope that I will manage to change it during this year so that they start to love the unfamiliar, embrace challenge and stretch themselves.

If I were to describe my levels of tiredness now, I would say that it's like nothing I've experience before. It's probably because I actually need to be attentive every single moment of the lesson: no drifting away, thinking about what to cook for dinner or any such thing. Just full attention for a full hour when I have the students with me. Emotional investment also comes in here. I care so much and want my students to succeed so badly, that it drains energy, especially when something goes wrong. And, my word, so many things went wrong in the last couple of days. I had to send pupils out of my classroom, stop the entire lesson to have a serious chat about attitude to work and I've almost lost my voice trying to be heard over their chatter. 

It definitely feels like a learning curve, but I know it will be absolutely amazing. There is no better way to spend your time than to educate young minds.

Sunday Special: Reclaiming Sabbath.

I would strongly urge everyone to rediscover Sunday: Do not be afraid to give your time to Christ!Yes, let us open our time to Christ, that he may cast light upon it and give it direction. He is the One who knows the secret of time and the secret of eternity, and he gives us “his day” as an ever new gift of his love. The rediscovery of this day is a grace which we must implore, not only so that we may live the demands of faith to the full, but also so that we may respond concretely to the deepest human yearnings. Time given to Christ is never time lost, but is rather time gained, so that our relationships and indeed our whole life may become more profoundly human. (Saint John Paul II, On Keeping the Lord’s Day Holy)

I plead guilty. Guilty of treating Sunday as a catch-up day when all unfinished tasks accumulated during the week get done; a day when I polish the house; get the weekly food shop done.

It didn't used to be like that. I had a period in my life when I was really principled about not doing work on Sunday. I would go to church in the morning, then go for a long walk, have tea with friends and read for pleasure. Sadly, life gets busy. And although I really don't like this excuse, I didn't have time to carry on with having Sunday off.

The thing is, I can make time. And I hereby resolve to make time to have time off on Sunday this year.

I am a firm believer that we simply need this one day a week to not only rest, but also recharge our spiritual batteries. During the week there is not only not enough time to have a break, catch a breath and simply be present in the moment, but from my own experience I know there is always something to be done, so prayer and reflection are pushed aside.

How to go about finding time to reclaim Sabbath? This is what my plan is:

1. Try to finish all tasks by Saturday evening. This will require good time-management, hard work and full focus during the week. No procrastination or putting thing off until tomorrow. 

2. Have a plan for Sunday. For the rest to be constructive, I need to have some sort of idea how I want to spend this day, otherwise it will turn into a one massive nap or binge watching tv. I will go to church in the morning, read something spiritual, bake a cake for the house, go for a long walk by the sea and Skype my family.

3. Be gentle with myself. Sometimes I will be overwhelmed with work and will need to work on Sunday. And it's ok. It's not about perfection. I will do my best to have a restful Sunday, but when it doesn't work out, I will not feel guilty. I will just make most of the time I have.

Happy Sunday!

The longest 1h 34s of my life.

One should never make important life decisions under influence of excitement. It never ends well. And it didn't end well this time for me either.

At the time when I've heard about a 2000m swim in a Copenhagen canal, I was clearly in an adventurous mood. And so I must have been when we were registering for the swim. My mum, quite rightly, was absolutely petrified by the idea of spending an hour in a cold water. Dad thought it was ridiculous to intentionally get so tired. I didn't listen.

And so we've ended up by the Christiansborg in Copenhagen. It was a pleasantly warm morning, not a cloud in sight on the sky. After intial wetsuit issues, I was all ready to go. In all fairness, just before the start I was quite excited. I've even took some time in the past few months to try to improve my swimming and managed to get up to 1700m in my practice sessions. So I felt reasonably confident about this swim and hoped for a time around 50 minutes. Oh, how overly optimistic I was!

Before the race, with a smile on my face.

First jump into the water was not too bad. My feet and hands sensed a little cold, but the wetsuit (and probably the emotions) kept me warm. It was a complete madness when the start signal finally came. 65 people close to each other in the water. I could barely move any of my limbs without constantly kicking or hitting someone next to me. There was a current and some waves on the water as well which made everything even more difficult. If this wasn't enough, it turned out that my body was wholly incompatible with swimming in a wetsuit. It added too much buoyancy which restricted my moves. Even though I tried really hard to kick, it felt that I was barely moving forward. Each metre of the swim was a struggle. My neck and lower back hurt. Half way through I've figured that backstroke was easiest to do, although in any other circumstances it would have caused me much trouble. All the way through I was deliberating whether I should ask one of the lifeguards to get me out of the water. But I wanted to get a medal. Also, it would be really embarrassing not to finish the race. So despite my desperation, and desperate I was,I pushed through and eventually made it to the finish line.

After the race, with a medal and a somewhat forced smile.

You can imagine how relieved I was when I was finally out of the water. I didn't manage to finish within my desired time (I've actually made it in 1:00:34), but given how much trouble I had in the water and how disheartened I felt all the way through, I'm proud of myself. I've done something I've never done before. But it was, without doubt, the longest 1h 34s of my life. I don't think I will be longing for more such experiences any time soon.

If're worried about me, you will be glad to hear that I've recovered now, thanks to a few nights of good sleep and a hot stone massage. But this dubiously pleasurable adventure successfully got such crazy ideas out of my head.

Visiting the Vikings.

The vast majority of the pictures in this post are credited to the most wonderful Mr Magic who has managed to take over 4GB of photos in a short span of our weekend escape to Copenhagen.

Ever since I've studied Vikings for my A-level History course, I've been in love with the Vikings. There is something extremely captivating about those men and women who traveled all across Scandinavia, into Britain and even further afield to North America. For this reason a trip to Copenhagen was a real highlight of my summer holiday. Finally I got close to the history of the Vikings. And it was brilliant.

On the way to meet the Vikings!

If you want to follow in the footsteps of the Vikings, I wholeheartedly recommend Vikingeskibsmuseet (The Viking Ship Museum). It's located in Roskilde, in zone 8 of the Greater Copenhagen and is easily reachable by a train and a 25 minute walk across the town.

If I were to describe the museum in one place I would say incredible. Mr Magic said that I looked like a child in a sweet shop and this is really how I felt for half of the day when I was at the Vikingeskibsmuseet.

There are remains of real Vikings ships in the museum building, you can try on a Viking outfit, but the real attractions were all outdoors. You could try your luck in Viking games, board a reconstruction of one of the ships on display, have a go at using an axe, listen to a story about reconstruction works in Roskilde and try traditional weaving. It also turned out that I'm really good recognising types of trees. But the real highlight was a trip on a reconstruction of an 18th century ship modeled on Viking ships. It was made entirely of wood, with a rough wool sail finished with horse hair. We even had a chance to experience first hand how hard it was to sail this ship: each of us on the boat was given an oar and we had to row back to the harbour. It was tough, but real fun and I could really feel like a Viking. I felt like a little girl who was given a present which she wished for for ages.

Throw Thor's hammer.

Here we go!

6 out of 8 on the wood knowledge test

Waiting for the rowing expedition.

The trip wouldn't be complete without buying some appropriate gifts. Mr Magic got me a pair of earings with Freyr, a Norse god of fertility, which is a lovely addition to my collection of quirky earing. I've also got a Viking keyring to ensure the Viking inside of me has a companion nearby at all times. As a more interactive gift, we got a Viking Attack card where you can rub in the Vikings, Saxons and their weaponry yourself where you want. I'm yet to do this one, saving it for a quiet evening with some wine.

Little Freyr earings.

Viking attack rub down fun

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Next time: my ordeal at the canal swim. Keep an eye out for it!