Those first few blury weeks

Days pass, one much the same to another. Each with little breakthroughs, and setbacks. I would wake at 5.30 and make sure I was prepared for the day. After a breakfast of vegemite toast I would head off to school at 7am. There, I would make sure everything was ready to go. Children begin to arrive at 7.45, and school begins with the shrill blowing of a whistle and bare feet stampeding into lines. Our lines overlook a rubbish strewn oval in front, the main road to the left and the wilderness to the right. Children fuss and fidget while they wait to say good morning. Its usually Julie who cuts the ribbon on the new day by saying Good morning children, to which they yell in unison Good monrning Miss Julie. Then Julie will look at the teachers and the children scream as loud as they can ‘Good morning teachers’, then they giggle and we smile as we say a pathetic, unified good morning back as we do a mental role call and calculate how difficult the day is going to be.

We take the role and then the lunch orders – I still have to hide the fact that I get some of them muddled or I don’t know some of their names. I ask for their last name or get them to help me pick their name from the 40 that are on my list.

We take the class down to do daily fitness – and try to come up with games they enjoy playing. Some reluctantly stumble around like sleep still has his hands firmly clasped around their ankles but most run, like brumbies, their skinny legs and bare feet effortlessly run, change direction and run again. The sound of laughter is more potent than my morning coffee and as I look over the tree studded hills with the sun kissing its forehead, I feel homesick for something but I can never figure out exactly what. When the children have snot running from their noses onto their lips or when they climb the goal posts out of teacher reach, or when they begin to do a mass ‘wander’ its time to go inside. They get drinks then file into the classroom where they fight to be the ones to hand out tissues or carry the rubbish bin. The children blow their noses until there is nothing left, which often takes several tissues. Then we sit down to start the day.

For the first few weeks I struggled to think of activities every day to fill in the time. I would have to stretch things out, read ridiculously slowly, or read several books, asking questions and pointing out pictures. After three weeks of this I was given the training on the program I should have been using and the structure made a huge difference.

We have 20 minutes for recess, which is just enough time to make sure the children have food, run to the toilet and make another cup of coffee. I didn’t get a recess or lunch break for the first 4 weeks of school. I was either on duty, had children staying in for misbehaviour or I was preparing for the next session. There were many times through those first weeks when I would turn to the teachers aid desperately and say that they had done everything I had planned for the day. She would always shrug and I would think of something, thankful that children were too preoccupied to see my panic.

I spent weekends making educational games after that so they would have something to do when they had finished that wasn’t entirely mindless.

After the day has finished and the last foot has scampered home, when the noise escapes with the children down the street I sit. I usually sit for 20 minutes. No thoughts dare to knock on the door of my mind. My eyes fail to see the pencils left on the lino floor or eraser shavings on the tables. For those minutes I am unconscious with my eyes open. Like a parent that has finally got their children to sleep and closed all the doors I steal those precious moments and let peace be absorbed into my skin.

Then, if its Monday I go to get the mail before heading back to school to plan for the next day. If its Tuesday I go to the staff meeting. If its Wednesday Amanda and I go to the store, since the fresh food comes in on Wednesday. On Thursday we have staff training and on Friday I go back to the post office and post things.

We tended to leave school 11 hours after we arrived, at around 6pm. Sometimes later. We came home, whipped up some quick dinner, and settled into a night of more work. I worked until my eyelids had to be propped up with forks...then i would succumb. I would go to bed, knowing there was infinitely more work to do. I would dream about the work, often waking up in the night to write down thoughts or ideas...and before i knew it...the alarm would go off again at 5.30am