threescore

In actual fact, year tens are supposed to be on work experience this week.

So, why the uniforms?

I am thinking of not dobbing in four year tens from my school who I saw playing football in the park before 3:00 this afternoon. In all honesty, more was probably achieved by all concerned (and their respective classes) by their absence from lessons and they did at least keep their uniforms on.

However, this is now in the public domain. Should any of the parents contact me, I would not deny seeing their sons taking extra-curricular PE in the beautiful weather, right next to the ice-cream stall.

Odd socks do work - if you are a physiotherapist. If you are a baby it makes your mum look incompetent or foolish.

But if you are a baby with two socks on at this moment I applaud you.

And if you are a baby with two socks on and you are reading this I think your mum should stop lying.

I got a nice letter through the post today from my headmaster, which was rather quick considering I only resigned yesterday. Nice to feel the school cares. I noticed that the letterhead had changed. That was quick too.

Here are some other true observations I made today.

1. At the post office, waiting for Lily’s passport to be ‘check-and-send’ed and a parcel for Germany to be just weighed, I saw DVDs for learning foreign languages. Not a surprise: mum pointed them out to me the other week. One is for learning English. Every word on it, including complicated blurb and instructions for how to get the DVD were in English. I think you had to swear allegiance to the Beckhams and Gladiators and soggy chips in triplicate with valid ID before you were allowed to buy it.

2. Looking for a new buggy (or stroller, as I have to call it at Mothercare), I have found ones that suit from age 0 to age 5, and are guaranteed for 12 months. I do not intend to have children of the accelerated variety, so we may just have to take the chance on the remaining years.

3. Lily has something snuffly and is grizzling a lot and losing sleep, so I bought her a baby vaporub, which smells of a comfortable night’s sleep and says on the side that it must not be used if the baby is allergic to any of the ingredients or is under 3 months old. Neither must the parents use it if any of the above applies to them. Thankfully I too am over 3 months old. That was a close one.

was that I handed in my notice. We had to wait for some answers to technical questions and be certain that it was best to resign now, but it gives the school the longest possible time to try and find a maths teacher for September. Five and a half months - I hope it gives them long enough. (It’s longer than Lily has been alive).

I am filling in an application for a job as a home tutor for the local education area, so we will wait and see what comes.

There is a weird technicality about whether I can keep some of my maternity pay (the occupational maternity part). I would need to work 30 more days after the date I am due to leave, for the same employer. This is possible, but unlikely. I am hoping to do a day a week. The work has to be continuous and tutors work on a casual basis. I could miss a session through lack of work on the 29th week and lose quite a lot of money.

But I definitely am not staying at the school, even though I would have loved to. They genuinely cannot offer me a day a week.

And maybe it is time for new things.

I also filled in a new CRB form today to work in the church creche and sorted out Lily’s passport application. I am hoping to arrange her nursery application soon: there has been a lot of form-filling and finding of important documents at our house this week.

Four and a half years ago I promised to love, honour and obey my husband, so when he placed a veto on my returning to work full-time I did not argue. It was unlikely that anyone could have talked me into it. We have tried to be prudent and allow for a part-time return to work for me. It seemed to make the most sense to us.

I have been getting used to the idea of going back to work, by keeping myself busy and visiting local nurseries.

This week I saw my Head, who told me that he cannot offer me part-time work as he has too many part-timers on the staff. I did not see this coming. Now I have to get used to the idea that I may not be working for a while at school. So I am investigating other ideas. Maybe things are working together for the best. I guess we may (or may not) understand with hindsight. I’d like to write a book with dad. I’d also like to spend time becoming a great mum. I’d also like to work abroad, fly a plane, speak another language fluently and have more children, but all these things are going to have to wait.

Today I did not have baked potatoes ready in time for lunch (there is a long and uninteresting story behind this), but I did have many family members over. I had foresight but circumstances kept interrupting. Yesterday we drove to London without checking the traffic and took 4 hours getting there, but one and a half getting back. I did not have foresight, or food in the car. From now on I will.

Lily, who finds my sister hilarious and laughs at her pulling faces, does not worry about what she will wear tomorrow or even about the hairs on her head. She just gets on with life and having her here is a wonderful learning process. She often sleeps well as she is very calm a lot of the time, but occasionally wakes at night and panics. When she summons me she knows she is safe and will be cared for. So we take one night at a time.

One benefit of having a squashed stomach in pregnancy is the need to eat smaller, more frequent meals. At sensible times. I feel much more in touch with my body. Even though I need a ridiculous number of pillows in bed and have to stop to breathe properly every once in a while. I do like eating.

I am also keeping an eye out for things that make me laugh little and often. These things are like Gaviscon for the soul. For example, my class wrote some lovely things in their coursework on data. I just marked the following sentences (sic):

• “People with brown hair have much more evenly spread eyes”
• “The limitations to my work is that there might be rouge data”
• And, by a blonde girl: “Hypothesis: Blonde haired people have a lower IQ. I think this because some people say that people with blonde hair are less intelligancet than brunettes”.

I am sad.

It is the end of term, and I miss school already. I have no energy, admittedly, but I will not be back for quite a while as maternity leave will begin as the new term starts. My tutor group were so keen to leave and so noisy that I felt quite mad with them for not being more thoughtful and reflective at this key point in our journey through high school. I was there when they first visited three years ago and have seen them through all sorts of issues and ups and downs. They are a lovely, caring lot. But they are also 13 years old and incredibly self-absorbed.

I know I should feel happy and excited about summer and some time off and having a baby. Maybe that will kick in later. I’m too sentimental and hormonal now and it was pouring with rain as I left.

On a positive note, a girl in my form who it has been hard to help this year was grateful that I went with her to find her Xplore card which had been thrown into a neighbour’s garden on the way in to school. Her dad has started coming to my church and I want her to understand forgiveness and grace, even though we had to talk about some behavioural things before I was able to help her. I feel that at least I have left things on a good note with her as the school year ends, and maybe she will come and see us and the baby at church when it is born in November.

Give them baby magazines, ask them to write a questionnaire, send them round the school, then set the challenge to make a model Baby Buggy using Lego or K’Nex to hold a toy. Ideally Piglet.

Print certificates on pink card.

A girl in my year 8 form group asked me last week whether in September she was going into year 9.

Another girl, a year younger, asked me yesterday what I was going to call my child. Dead-pan moment called for, so I answered “Doris”.

“What if it’s a girl?” she replied.

A boy in year 10 who has had all of this half term to do his coursework finally did the whole thing last lesson, as the deadline loomed. He has proven mathematically that brown hair is the most common colour for boys and girls.

Talking of statistics, I have discovered that my bump is growing discretely. My normal work trousers stopped fitting precisely 10 minutes into a lesson last week, and were painful all that day. I had already put my pregnancy trousers in the wash, so thought I’d better wear my baggier pregnancy trousers the next day. I felt like a clown, constantly having to hoick them up and worrying that they weren’t clinging enough as I am not big enough for them.

It turns out the teacher for Textiles (Sewing) doesn’t keep safety pins in school.

Amazing what you can do with a paper-clip when you need to.

I covered one of her lessons the other day and the whole GCSE class were planning their prom dresses for next year. It made me wonder what would happen if a boy took GCSE Textiles.

A man rang up yesterday about sponsoring my Lego Challenge for next week and asked whether we needed a first, second and third prize. I’d already allocated prize money from the budget, so was hesitant and said so. He told me a few minutes later that he had chatted with the partners and they’d agreed a third prize of £20 HMV tokens, second prize of £50 and a top prize of an iPod nano. I managed to find a way to back-track and accept his offer… 

I love my job. There is a new thing to smile about each day.

I also love the fact that it is nearly summer holidays, that the builders are coming in August to work on our kitchen, that we are going to see our nephew tomorrow, that my sister has a job and some good travel plans after New Zealand, that dad is getting better and better and that Peanut is kicking a lot. Despite the fact that somehow they have very little space and my bump is still about the shape of the millenium dome.

A map appeared in the foyer at school today.

Beautiful. Clear plastic. Pastel colours. Modern. Classy. Expensive.

In a school. With teachers.

The Chaplain’s office is now home to the Chaplin, and we have no fire extinguishers, only extinguisers. We also have a maintaince block and a number of apostrophes which we may not have been able to afford.