Tuesday, September 18, 2012

D - Day

Class-lists are posted on our two main gates and inside the building, teachers have some books and pens and the site looking considerably better, but i’m still pooping my silk boxers.


I’m in my only suit, shirt and child-friendly tie and hat, and i’m about to meet and greet the students, parents, guardians, helpers and drivers.

Everyone warns me it will be an insane day. Most of the “returning” parents haven’t been assed to re-register and are likely to demand a place on the door. I’m expecting absolute chaos at Reception. 

I smile alot and shake hands with a lot of the parents and receive delightful smiles, handshakes, High 5s  and even a few hugs from the students. It’s lovely to finally have students through the door.   

Most people seem to know where they’re going and we have plenty of EA supervision. 

The Early Years students go straight to class when they arrive in but Grade 2s to Grade 5 get to play in the playground till 8.20. The playground is all unlevelled concrete and sand and there are no toys or balls. It’s real pitiful and i feel ashamed. I line up the students and introduce myself to the students.

All my staff are known by their first name with Ms or Mr in front. I have no problem with staff addressing me as Mr A_ and the kids are expecting to call me the same. But i don’t that. They’re my students and i’m determined to get them to call Mr G_. 

And they do. 

I check in on one of my two secretaries (that’s a whole other story) in Reception and whilst it’s crowded it doesn’t seem like madness. Well done L.

At 10.20 i get an opportunity to meet the idyllic Early Years students (3 – 6 year olds) after their snack-time. 

I introduce myself  to them and have brought out my shiny red Ovation acoustic guitar. They’re wide-eyed as i start to sing “The Wheels on the Bus” but they get into it – most specially with “The Babies on the bus go Wah! Wah! Wah!” and they can’t get enough. Apart from Ms J who joins in the song, teachers and assistants alike clearly can’t make out what it’s all about.

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