Amy's Teaching Career

Last Friday was the Christmas faire at school, which I was required to attend. A few things happened over the course of the evening that I thought were funny or interesting enough to share.

Story 1:

This story requires just a bit of backstory. Thanksgiving day I (of course) had to work, and I was slated to present an assembly about Thanksgiving and what it means to the entire school. I was slightly weepey and missing family that morning, but I thought I was ok. I WAS ok through the story about the Mayflower, and the starvation, and the Indians. I was OK all the way until the story started to talk about how everyone doesn't work and instead drives thousands of miles to spend Thanksgiving with their families. Then I just... lost it a bit. *cough-a lot-cough* I tried so hard not to cry in front of the WHOLE SCHOOL, but failed miserably.

So The Christmas faire has every child and their parents show up. I, being in love with cake and expected to part with some of my hard earned money, made my way to the bake sale and began a conversation with the ladies manning it.

Amy: Oooo! Cake! I'd like that one and that one and that one, no wait, that one - is that blueberries on top?!

Lady behind the Cake Stand: Your accent doesn't sound too familiar - where are you... (insert long dramatic pause here, with expanding ring of silence) Wait - you must be Ms. H - you're the teacher that CRIED AT THE THANKSGIVING ASSEMBLY!!!!!!!!!!!

Other Lady behind the Cake Stand: Oh! Little Suzie* came home and told me all about how you were missing your family and cried in front OF THE WHOLE SCHOOL!

Yet Another Lady behind the Cake Stand: Oh! My Brett* came home and told me all about that too! He didn't know what to do - that's why he doesn't talk to you anymore. Poor dear... aw, bless ** ...

Amy: *sputter, stammer* um...

1st Lady: I cry all the time too, you know (thinking: What kind of baby cries at an assembly? Unheard of!)

2nd Lady: Yes, dearie (patting my hand) we have great big sob gatherings where we just go on and LET IT ALL OUT (thinking: Shocking! What about the stiff upper lip?)

3rd Lady: Oh, and they are so good - we just all gather round and cry and cry and we feel so much better after - and my family is only down Hastings way! (thinking: wonder if my little Brett* can be moved to a less whingey teacher?)

Amy: gulp... *runs away*

*not the child's real name
**bless=something you say about someone who is absolutely so pathetic there really is nothing else you can say. i.e. Little Scooter was an absolute nightmare in class today - he cut Rachel's hair and threw knives at me....bless.

Story 2:

Earlier, I was conversing with a colleague as we sold the goods our children had made, when a man came up to her and started talking to her about buying her orange juice. I had never seen this man before, but owing to the level of intimacy in the conversation, I hazarded a guess and asked her, "Is he your'n?" She looked at me strangely and didn't answer, and I decided that perhaps she was sensitive about it and dropped the subject. Later, after the fateful Bake sale incident, I was again at my booth when one of my students came up to me, so very excited. She wanted me to meet her mum, who was working in the kitchen. I had seen and partially overheard (my name anyway) this person murmer about me as I had passed by on the way to my fateful Bake sale encounter, so I was a bit anxious to meet her as well. The little girl walks me over to the kitchen window, and as we get there, this is the scenario.

Amy: (asking the little girl while pointing at her mum) "Is she your'n?"

Mum: (gasping and getting a horrified look on her face) "Urine? why are you calling me urine? Do you have a problem with me?!?"

Little Girl: Mummy, no, she means are you mine!

Amy: (bright red) Oh, my....

Needless to say, when I asked my colleague, she had thought the same thing. That explains SO much. Urine. Your'n. That's my teaching career in a snapshot.

So....

My mom sends me an email, and it says: "Your last entry is May 20. Today is June 30. Did I miss the invitation to your funeral?"

Well, no, and if I were going to be pedantic (which of course I am not) I would wonder if it were reasonable to expect a dead person to reply to an email asking if they were dead...

To be perfectly honest I don't even have the busy excuse (for the last week anyway) of why I haven't posted a blog. Since I can't really give you an excuse, I can tell you what I have done since that last post.

Since May 30 I have:

*Written and turned in 2 papers, 4000 words each
*Created a final presentation which consisted of a movie and a live action play with 2 other people (though I did the movie by myself)
*Taken 3 tests to test my ability to teach
*Given 3 presentations: 1 a lecture on schools in the United States, and the other 2 of my final project (1 to be marked and then 1 in front of the entire 3rd year)
*Finished my undergraduate degree
*Found a job teaching a year 4/5 class for next year
*Rented a vehicle 10 times (for transportation to said school)
*Found out my marks and turned in final paperwork (I had 2 marks that were 2-1 level, and all the rest were 1sts, including 2 90's, 2 85's, and 3 papers that I have been told that I should publish. At this point I think it is safe to say that I have a first in my Bachelors degree.)
*Cat-sat (for Moses the cat, who is here now and makes me really miss my cats)
*Worked every day that I have not been studying, at University, or at the school
*Found out about Visa situations and in the process of dealing with them
*Planned Ashley's trip to the United States for the summer
*Rearranged the living room
*Planted a new garden box for my miniature rosebush to live outside
*Evaluated plans, decided to wait on a doctorate just a little bit, and applied for entry into Grad School starting in September
-and-
*TRIED to maintain a fairly tidy house and kind of keep up with the laundry and cook dinner and pack lunches and make sure that someone washes the dishes though it is often not me that actually does so.


Truth be told, the past week I have had time to sit down and write in the blog. I thought about doing it, but I have no motivation. I'm tired, and it seemed like yet one more thing that had to be done. Funny how with nothing going on I still feel a lot of pressure to get things done. I have been feeling the same way about making phone calls to people. I know that I should call my mom, my sisters, my best friend... but the thought of actually picking up the phone and holding it against my ear for that long is overwhelming. The past few weeks I have been feeling it emotionally too, what with being really run down and sad and weepyand moody and grumpy and hard on myself. I am taking steps to get myself out of the funk (I love St. John's Wort...) but that is where I have been: in Funkville.

I want to think that the summer will give me an opportunity to slow down, but I actually don't think it will. Getting ready for next year, working as much as I possibly can, applying for and absorbing the tremendous cost of the next set of Visas, having to buy a car (and praying someone will give me financing,) Ashley being gone, missing Tristan's birthday, missing my family... there are some days that I am not just an ostrich sticking my head in the sand trying to hide, but I actively wonder if I should just give up, abandon the life I am trying to build here and the education that I am pursuing, and go live at moms house and work at a fast food joint. I don't actually think about that seriously, and I know that it is my just wanting to run away.

I am trying to do things that will help me have time for me, and things that I like to do (like gaming) but I laugh at myself because right now I even resent the planning, time and effort that creating a character to play in a game requires. My poor family... they must be walking on eggshells. I don't even understand myself.

Anyway, Mom, that is what I have been doing in the last month. Thank you for making me post, thank you for calling me on my stuff, and thank you for being patient. No, I have not died and have no plans to do so in the immediate future, and no there is no funeral for you to come to. Other than that, I make no promises.

The Good and the Bad.

I'm tired of making excuses for myself and the fact that it has been so long since the last post. I know that everyone loves to read this. I love to know that I have posted and I love that I have people who care enough about me to read. I am really not good at being consistent about keeping up with the blog. I suppose I get tired. I suppose I get busy and it takes low priority. I suppose, if I am going to be really honest with everyone, that I get lazy. So I'm apologising, but I'm not making excuses.

Lately, it has been all about adjusting to the weather change (It's SPRING! There are flowers and it is not so bitter cold and the trees are growing leaves! There are nettles, which is the not-quite-so-good.) and the change from being in a classroom everyday for the past however long to being back at University and settling into working. I have minimal motivation for that as well. I have 2 large research projects that are due on the same day. I suspect that1 will get the majority of my time and attention, and the other will just get by. I have come to terms with that. I can't seem to split my attention well enough to focus on both at the same time. Overall, I do not think that it will affect my marks that much, as I still intent to pass. I think I'm to the point that I am content with scraping by. (can anyone say senior-itis?)

We re-arranged the house a few weeks ago, and I am enjoying the results. I was feeling a little like we were just staying here. Not everything had a home. Not everything was "moved in" after almost a year. And I confess to having a moment in which I just couldn't stand living here and not being settled. So we re-arranged and it has helped a lot. The living room, which is small to start with, was piled with the table behind the desk, so we were using only half the space and it was crowded and uncomfortable. Now it is more spread out and feels less crowded. We still don't have enough seats for everyone, but it is much better and a whole lot more bearable. We also found a new-to-us set of chairs at a second-hand shop. They are not great, and won't last long, but they are a lot better than the chairs that we had that didn't survive the overseas trip well. Those had fallen apart. There was 1 left, and it was wobbly. The new chairs are green, which I like.

I am actively job hunting at the same time as all the other things. This is actually a very hard thing. There is an expectation that everyone who applies for a position will go for a tour of the school. These are scheduled at specific times convenient for the school. Most of the schools are not bus or walking distance from us, so this means that I need to rent a car. Sometimes for 1 school visit. Then I apply, but the competition is fierce. I didn't even get an interview at the school that I did my placement at. I feel a bit disheartened. I'm not sure if there is a problem with my application, my cover letter, or my CV. I don't know if my Visa is an issue or if it is just bad luck of the draw. But I am starting to worry that I won't be able to find a job, won't be able to finally do my part in keeping our family afloat. We have such big plans: buying a house, the potentiality of future children, and none of it can happen if I continue to be a less-contributive member of the family.

*sigh* I feel like this post is a lot of whining, and that is not exactly what I intended to do when I started it. There are good things. Ashley is 17 now. (Ok - good and bad thing. I have very mixed emotions about her birthday. One one hand, yay for her, and on the other, my time with her as a child is almost over and that makes me sad.) We have solved the fungus gnat problem with the handy help of a pesticide spray and some silver sand. I have new house plants. I am well loved and cared for. Mostly, I am happy. I miss you all a lot, though. I feel a bit lonely without my friends even close enough to talk to.

No more now, or I'll do something silly like cry.

And now for something a bit different...

As I have been tired, busy, and promising someone a chance to be a published blog author for almost a year now, I am very happy to finally offer the chance for a guest writer (as opposed to a GHOST writer, and I am glad for that, let me tell you, as I would never sleep well again after being so well-haunted...) to take over for a bit. Kelley and I have been friends since we were small, and my sister Kelli introduced us. She is here on a visit, and I am happy to put our family blog in her so-very capable hands. (Or so she says, though we haven't actually experienced that massage magic as of yet. hint hint.)

Hi there! Kelley here. Amy thought it might be nice for a small change, so you are to temporarily to be exposed to my version of a little thing we like to call "return to the motherland." Just teasing, I have never actually called it that before, but since this is my second visit to Amy and Ashley in England, and Amy promised a blog from us last time (she lied, naughty girl) I promised that I would write this time. (She just thinks it will be once. I intend to milk her for every word.)

After a long flight from Dallas/Fort Worth airport to London Heathrow (9 hours) and then a trip on the tube to the train station (1 hour) and then a train trip down to Canterbury (1.5 hours) I arrived here on Friday the 2nd. Note that if you should visit from America, these sleep Nazis will NOT allow you to escape your exhaustion and jet lag until what they consider an appropriate evening hour. It gets dark here at four. Tor-ture. (In the infamous words of Sir Stephen: no pain, no gain, so deal with it. Or something like that.)

On Saturday, the 3rd, we visited some friends of Amy and Stephen's for dinner. Here are Stephen and the Transplants (that's actually the name of their band):


By the way, he doesn't always smile like a serial killer in photos. Andy and b00 (the friends) made us a lovely meal, (involving eating anglerfish for the first time, and blood, gore, and medical-grade superglue, but not on any of us) and we played a few rounds of a new game called Bausack. It is a really challenging game where you make a tower of these odd-shaped wooden blocks. The catch is that other players choose your pieces for you. The last tower standing is the winner. The rookie (that's me) won the first round with this creation:


Ashley had a lovely 2nd place masterpiece with this one:


We stayed quite late past dinner, and walked home in the dark (very dark) and cold (really, really cold) and snuggled into beds with hot water bottles and many blankets.

Today, Amy and I went down to the High Street (yes I said down, then high), which is a short, quite scenic walk from their flat. (She says short and quite scenic NOW, but when we were actually walking it she sang quite a different song involving lots of 'Are we there yet'esque statements.) This is a school field nearby.


See the little black hills of dirt? Mole holes. Stephen says to call them mole hills, but I will let you decide. (Kelley and I both called them mole-holes until Stephen corrected us. I suppose I know that they should be called mole hills, and I don't know why my instinct is to call them mole-holes, but it is.) As you stroll down the path alongside the river, the Canterbury cathedral pops up in between the trees and over rooftops like a creepy stalking historical monument.


(Just look at those creepy stalker-building spires. You can't miss those, it's how you differentiate between a regular historic monument and a creepy-stalking one.) I kid. It is really quite stunning, but for some reason never fails to surprise me when I'm walking down the road surrounded by buildings and all of a sudden, Bam! No, it doesn't mow you down. It's more like, Boo! Here I am! Again! This is the creepy wooded path that Amy will not go down in the dark unaccompanied. Can't say I blame her:


(That picture may well be the favourite one that Kelley took today. I love the muted colours and it actually looks just like a creepy pathway should. Well done, Kel.) Here are a couple of buildings within town. This is a synagogue on one of the side streets (Story: This building used to be a synagogue, and it has since been bought out by The King's School, a swanky private institution that charges more in tuition for the boarding children than my tuition does. It is now a recital space used for music performances.):


This is an official Canterbury Historical Building (according to the sign)--there are quite a few of these in town. (In the midst of a variety of small shops, this house is actually residential. I almost feel sorry for the people who live there, as every tourist in the area has to stop and take a picture of this house. One time I actually saw someone taking a picture of the residents as they went in.)


Not sure if this sign is old, but it was on a historical building and I just liked it.


And this lovely old building houses...the Gap.


Here is a shot of the high street (also called the Parade) (Or at least 1/3rd is. There is St. Peters, The Parade, and then the High street all as names on this one straight, 1/2 mile stretch of pedestrianised road.):


And just around the corner, this sign wishes you a Happy Christmas. (On January 4):


And here is the cathedral again. I think it's following me.


Before we left town to head home, we made a couple of stops, one of them at Tesco, which is one of the groceries.


Now, the grocery stores amuse me, because one of the first things my mother said to me when I told her I was visiting England was "Yuck. You'll hate the food." (She doesn't yet hate the food, because no one here eats English food. We all eat Thai and Indian and American food, and French and Chinese and Spanish food. England is all about World food, anymore.) And it's not that it's just different, but they have odd names for things. For a complete mental perv like me, it is a joyous place.

For instance, there is an entire aisle dedicated to biscuits. Don't care that they are covered in chocolate or cinnamon flavored, they call them biscuits. Check out my picture of the cookie aisle. (I love biscuits. And cakes. Darn them. And this picture looks as bright and colourful and makes me want to bring them all to a much better home: namely mine.)


And this is the pickled portion of the store. Never seen so many pickled things in my life. And guess what wasn't in this section. Pickles. (Though there are pickled eggs, and onions and beets and garlic and sauerkraut, and lemons and shallots. English people like their pickled foods.)


And here is mince. Supposed to be ground lamb or beef or pork or whichever, but tell me truly. Doesn't this look like the bits in 'Kibbles n Bits'?


(If you don't think that looks like kibble, go HERE and look. I have thought that it does ever since I saw it for the first time, and I was so glad when Kelley said she thought so too.) For those of you curious about the edible porn, there are cans of things like this:


The can says things like "Everyone loves a pair of bangers!" and "Size isn't everything!" and "Hide the sausage!" These will henceforth be referred to as "Porn and Beans." And this:


Now, I saw the movie "The Full Monty", and I think that its funny that this is a can of sausage and beans. I'll let you run with that one. For those of you that haven't seen the film, and this joke is doing a complete flyby at the moment, go HERE. You'll see what I mean. (The Full Monty, in this case,refers to the full English breakfast, which the English have held onto tooth and nail despite being a culture of world foods. The full English breakfast consists of as many of the following items as possible: Eggs, bacon, sausage, beans, toast, mushrooms, black pudding, hashbrowns, fried bread, and tomatoes. The Full Monty=coronary heart disease. In a can.)

And after the Tesco, we stopped by the candy shoppe, called the The Sugar Boy, where you can see these:


Ahhh...Uncle Joe's Mint Balls. They keep you all aglow. You say immature, I say nevertheless amusing. Our last stop was to get kebabs, which are lovely pitas stuffed with meat shaved off these huge roasters, like this lamb one:


They are really yummy, I totally recommend them (mom's advice be darned). Afterwards we headed home and had dinner, including a yummy custard desert, which is like pudding, but a bit thinner, and served hot. We are now all huddled in Amy and Stephen's bed as Amy reads aloud, and I will shortly have to haul myself from the warmth to my own bed and hot water bottle (Best. Invention. Ever.) Thanks for letting me hijack your favorite blog, and I hope you will let me share again. Cheers.

No, Kelley, thank YOU. We all hope that you will hijack this blog again in the near future. Even Stephen is happy. Ill and delirious with fever (no Dearest, I am not a reindeer and I don't need to eat another carrot...) but happy nonetheless.

You Say I'm not Patriotic?

You may consider yourself lucky, if you will.

I value the joy that is voting, perhaps more than I should. (So some would say.) I proved it this week.

I am still registered to vote in New Mexico, therefore I have to request and vote via an absentee ballot. Not a big deal, one would think. But in all actuality... let's just say that no one can call me unpatriotic and tell me that I don't love my country. Here's what happened.

My absentee ballot came with an affidavit of electronic transmission, which stated that I understood that I was giving up my right to a secret ballot, that I really was eligible to vote, and that I wouldn't show up on election night and try to vote again. I understand that this is to protect my vote from some sneaky vote-stealer who might try to pretend that they are me on election day, but it is an annoyance that I have to have this form notarised.

Notarising a document is actually not that big a deal in the States. You go to the bank. You sign up and wait a bit until the notary comes and does their thing. They don't charge you anything at all if you go to your bank.

Here, it's a bit different. Granted, the US Embassy will notarise documents for US citizens for free. But that involves missing a day of work or of school, plus the cost of the train, plus the cost of the tube since the Embassy is in London. Not really much of an option. Then I discovered that there are notaries in England too. BUT... notaries are a type of lawyer. They do sign documents, but they charge you lawyer fees also.

So I had a choice to make. I could pay about £50 and miss work/school to go to London to get the affidavit notarised, I could pay about £50 to go to the notary to get it notarised, or I could just not vote. Some, perhaps, would have chosen not to vote. But like I said earlier, voting is important to me. So I went to the notary.


This photo was taken in the waiting room at the lawyer's office. These are yearly additions and clarifications to the law code. This bookcase went from the floor to the ceiling, and there was another one just like it across the room, partially full of these books. The books are more current and in better condition at the bottom of the case, and the last book in this case was from 1974. The books at the top of the shelf were obviously old and falling apart. Some of them were so old that I could not read the dates. But I could read the date on the first book in the case... 1864.

I was a little shocked. Were they decorative? Another case in the room was full of signs. Old building signs with the law firms name on them. Maybe 7 or 8 of them. And some of them were extremely old also. So I asked the receptionist, who told me that this law firm has been in existence since 1864. Wow.

The notary was very old and very sweet. He had me hold a bible in my hands while I swore that I really was who I said I was. He wrote that his commission to be a notary expires on his death. And he tried so very hard not to ask who I was voting for. I could tell he was dying to know. He mentioned that he wasn't asking more than once. And when a different secretary came in to take me to pay for his time, and she flat-out asked me; he expressed sadness that they weren't allowed to ask as he told her off for asking me. (I did tell them. My ballot wasn't private anyway, and pretty much everyone knows who I am voting for, so it wasn't as though it were going to be a secret. And boy, did it make him happy. I think he might have been waiting for an American to come in just so he could talk about the election.)

Going to pay was an experience too. It was raining, and the finance department was in some other building. So she picked up an umbrella and I followed her. It took about 5 minutes to get there, through side streets and in front of what looked like houses. The grounds were lovely, though the paths were narrow and some had high walls on either side, so there really was no room for me to share the umbrella. She talked about how miserable it is in England, and how she wants desperately to move to Florida. (I don't know what it is about Florida. Every Brit that I have talked to, when talking about going to the US to visit or to live, talks about Florida. Florida is NOT THAT GREAT!) I asked her whose houses we were passing, to be told that they were not houses, they were offices for the lawyers that worked for this firm. The whole area was the law office. I had no idea that it was that huge. Perhaps a 6 or 7 minute walk from one side to the next. Wow.

After paying, I walked home in the drizzle, and it was so pretty. The trees are changing colour, and it dawned on me that I hadn't yet taken pictures to show all of you. I wanted you to see things while they were green, so I took some pictures with my phone on the way home.


This is the view from the first bridge that I have to cross to get home. The river is called the River Stour, and it splits into two at one side of the town, flows through the town, then meets back up with itself on the other side of town. The bridge is a footbridge, and this is the large part of the river. Perhaps thigh deep at places, but mostly knee deep. The white splotch in the middle is a young swan that moved in this summer and doesn't yet have a mate.


This is the path on the other side of the bridge. At night, this path is a little too creepy for me to walk along by myself. The tree overhang the path and it is very dark. But during the day it is beautiful, and perhaps my favourite part of the walk home. The foliage to the sides are mostly stinging nettles, but there are blackberry bramble growing among it, and these trees are elder, so there are lots of berries to pick on this part of the walk in the summer.


This is the building that our house is in, taken from further down the street. Our flat is the one with the hanging planters on the balcony. So yes, we are on the top floor. I like it. Good exercise going up and down the steps, and an attic for storage.


And last but not least, this is the view of our street looking out of the French doors and over our fake balcony. You can see the misty grey of the sky from the rain. It was a lovely walk home.

It Happens Everytime...

Every time I go to post a new blog, something gets in the way.

Today I was going to have my only opportunity to blog, along with the kazillion other things that I need to do in order to not fall behind. I didn't plan to work today so that I would have a day to do it.

Well, now I'm working.

When it comes to everything in the world going on, it seems that the blog takes a back seat. :( Kelley has threatened to do mean things if I don't update more often. And I'm sure a lot of you agree with her. I'm sorry that the blog is not alway my focus. I want it to be...

Ashley has a new beau. I will have to make her wax poetic on that topic. Stephen's birthday is coming up, and that brings dinner plans and what-do-I-do-for-a-present panic. I think of a million things that would be just perfect during the year, and don't write them down, so when crunch time comes, I am clueless. Pathetic. University started for me this week, but previous to that, I have been working between 40 and 50 hours a week, plus trying to keep up on the house and laundry, etc, etc. The dishes are winning the war.

We have a leak in our hot water closet, which is also our linen closet. The lightweight down duvet was covered in mold and mildew from having secretly been leaked on for months. Lucky for us, the laundry, after having charged us an arm and a leg, salvaged the duvet. The house smelled (and sometimes still does smell) of mildew. There are 4 other comforters that I need to decide what to do with. They are all too big to fit into our washing machine. It pains me to think about throwing them away.

My (last year's christmas tree) ficus has scale. In a major way. I have no idea how it got it: I have no other house plants. And my herb boxes came home post-scale. I have a recipe for a spray to help with it, but it involves rubbing alcohol. I can't find rubbing alcohol. No one sells rubbing alcohol. At the last place I checked, I was told, "People here don't use that sort of thing." I don't know how they function when their plants have scale. Or when they need to strip their hair. Or when they sterilize a needle to pull a splinter. I still have to check out the actual chemists. (pharmacy) That will happen on the proverbial day when I have time.

The past few weekends have been equally as busy, what with friends and family coming down. Our much smaller house, while perfect for us everyday, is a bit tighter when there are stay-the-night folks. Ashley was very sweet to give up her bed in the name of the cause. (Granted, she got a weekend at a friend's house out of it... but that doesn't diminish her sacrifice. Really.)

That's it in a very tiny nutshell. I hope to have more time later, but we will see what happens. I miss all of you. I miss blogging. I graduate in 9 months. That will be one less thing to stress about.

A funny - because I can't be bothered to write a real update.

Kelli sent me a funny, thinking I would enjoy it. I thought you would too. It is, of course, not at all true. But the story of its untruth is quite amusing in and of itself. The link to the snopes article is HERE. You should read it. I will post an update. I promise. Soon...ish.

Dear Citizens of America,

In view of your failure to elect a competent President and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective immediately.
Her Sovereign Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II, will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths and other territories (except Kansas, which she does not fancy), as from Monday next.
Your new prime minister, Gordon Brown, will appoint a governor for America without the need for further elections. Congress and the Senate will be disbanded. A questionnaire may be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed.
To aid in the transition to a British Crown Dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:

1. You should look up “revocation” in the Oxford English Dictionary. Then look up “aluminium,” and check the pronunciation guide. You will be amazed at just how wrongly you have been pronouncing it.

2. The letter ‘U’ will be reinstated in words such as ‘colour’, ‘favour’ and ‘neighbour.’ Likewise, you will learn to spell ‘doughnut’ without skipping half the letters, and the suffix “ize” will be replaced by the suffix “ise.”

3. You will learn that the suffix ‘burgh’ is pronounced ‘burra’; you may elect to spell Pittsburgh as ‘Pittsberg’ if you find you simply can’t cope with correct pronunciation.

4. Generally, you will be expected to raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels (look up “vocabulary”). Using the same twenty-seven words interspersed with filler noises such as “like” and “you know” is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication.

5. There is no such thing as “US English.” We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take account of the reinstated letter ‘u’ and the elimination of “-ize.”

6. You will relearn your original national anthem, “God Save The Queen”, but only after fully carrying out Task #1 (see above).

7. July 4th will no longer be celebrated as a holiday. November 2nd will be a new national holiday, but to be celebrated only in England. It will be called “Come-Uppance Day.”

8. You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns, lawyers or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you’re not adult enough to be independent. Guns should only be handled by adults. If you’re not adult enough to sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist then you’re not grown up enough to handle a gun.

9. Therefore, you will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous than a vegetable peeler. A permit will be required if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public.

10. All American cars are hereby banned. They are crap and this is for your own good. When we show you German cars, you will understand what we mean.

11. All intersections will be replaced with roundabouts, and you will start driving on the left with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric immediately and without the benefit of conversion tables… Both roundabouts and metrification will help you understand the British sense of humour.

12. The Former USA will adopt UK prices on petrol (which you have been calling “gasoline”) - roughly $8/US per gallon. Get used to it.

13. You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call french fries are not real chips, and those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called “crisps.” Real chips are thick cut, fried in animal fat, and dressed not with catsup but with malt vinegar.

14. Waiters and waitresses will be trained to be more aggressive with customers.

15. The cold tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is not actually beer at all. Henceforth, only proper British Bitter will be referred to as “beer,” and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as “Lager.” American brands will be referred to as “Near-Frozen Gnat’s Urine,” so that all can be sold without risk of further confusion.

16. Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as good guys. Hollywood will also be required to cast English actors as English characters. Watching Andie MacDowell attempt English dialogue in “Four Weddings and a Funeral” was an experience akin to having one’s ear removed with a cheese grater.

17. You will cease playing American “football.” There is only one kind of proper football; you call it “soccer”. Those of you brave enough, in time, will be allowed to play rugby (which has some similarities to American “football”, but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like a bunch of Jessies - English slang for “Big Girls Blouse”).

18. Further, you will stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the “World Series” for a game which is not played outside of America. Since only 2.1% of you are aware that there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable and forgiven.

19. You must tell us who killed JFK. It’s been driving us mad.

20. An internal revenue agent (i.e. tax collector) from Her Majesty’s Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all monies due, backdated to 1776.

Thank you for your co-operation.

The Post-Trip Update (A Long Time Coming...)

Well, it is about time that I catch you all up on what is going on in my neck of the woods.

The trip to the States was nice. I enjoyed seeing my family. I enjoyed spending time with Tristan. I enjoyed the weather and driving on the right side of the road. Tristan’s birthday was wonderful, and I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that he is 7 years old. That is practically grown up.

Boo had a bit of a hard time with the amount of time he was with me. It is so hard for kids to transition back and forth, and he was very homesick. I understood: I was homesick too. I didn’t expect to be, but I was.

We did quite a bit of shopping, and Ashley should be all set up with new clothes and new glasses for the year. Tristan got a lot of new clothes too, and I even splurged and ended up with some new work clothes and a few tops. I stocked up on things I can’t get in the United Kingdom; things like Malt o’Meal, corn syrup, and green chiles. To be honest, I didn’t foresee that packing two empty suitcases wouldn’t be enough, but after I left Ashley 3 boxes of Malt o’Meal to bring back with her, I only had ½ lb. to spare in 1 suitcase. The other was packed up tight and exactly as heavy as it was allowed to be without paying extra.

There is a story to go along with the topic of suitcases: in London before I left Stephen and I discovered that one of the wheels on my large suitcase was almost broken. We readjusted the packing, and the plan was for me to have it repaired in El Paso. Well, El Paso does have a repair shop that does not service my type of luggage under warranty, so I had to pay for it myself. Plus, they couldn’t give me a time line because they had never worked with that company before and were not sure how it all was going to happen. 3 days before my flight home I called them to find that they had sent a wheel, and it was the wrong side, then sent another one that did not fit. The put a different brand's wheel on it as a stopgap for me.That wheel didn’t even make it to my landing in London, for when I got the luggage off the luggage rack, the wheel was completely gone. So the 2 hour trip home from Gatwick airport involved a 50 pound huge suitcase with an essential wheel missing, and another 50 pound suitcase, plus a backpack and a laptop bag. By the time Stephen met me in Canterbury, 2/3 of the way home, I was exhausted and sore, and the wheel on the smaller bag was broken. By the time we actually got home, it was trashed. There is a lesson here:Pierre Cardin luggage is rubbish.I hope Ashley does not have the problems getting back that I did.

There is an ending to the computer story from an earlier post also. My computer did not arrive back in time, though it was en route. (A few more days and it would have made it back in time.) They allowed me to exchange it, and I had the amount of money that I originally paid for the old laptop. Since laptop prices have gone down significantly in the last few years,I have a new high-end laptop, and I only had to pay the amount of the 3 year extended warranty that even covers accidents.It was a small investment for a new laptop. I ended up with a Sony Vaio, which apparently Sarah and some other family members also have. Stephen approved, and is happy with the choice.He occasionally putters on it and seems content.

Let’s see… what else. For my birthday, Dan and Christie gave me a Palm Pilot, and it is being put to good use. Stephen was quite happy to find 300 or so games to put on it. It is synched with our home computer, and he is still looking into ways to connect it with my Google calendar. There is time yet to figure it out. The airline didn’t care at all about my birthday, and actually didn’t even look closely enough at my passport to discover that I was flying on my actual birthday. The man at airport security noticed, though, and told me to have a nice day because of it. I got lucky in sitting on the plane, too. The first short flight from El Paso to Houston, the man who was sitting in MY aisle seat told me that he was ‘packing heat’ and then showed me his gun. He was a federal marshal. He didn’t give up my aisle seat, so I sat in the window. Thank goodness for scopolamine, because otherwise I would not have been able to get to the toilet. The flight from Houston to London I was sitting next to a very nice gentleman flying to Dubai for a skiing trip. He was very friendly… but took off his shoes thus releasing intense foot smell, had severe body odor, and snored emphatically the entire flight. He must have slept very well. I didn’t.

Jet lag has been kicking my tush. I am still having a hard time falling asleep at night and waking up in the morning.

The house unpacking thing is coming along, slowly but surely. Poor Stephen must have been just drowning in boxes. I am not yet comfortable posting pictures of the new house, but I intend to eventually.

Ashley should be getting her A-level results in the next few days. I’ll let you know how she did.

I cut my hair. It ended up being between 8 and 10 inches chopped off. To be honest, no one has noticed.

Stephen left yesterday for his 10 day family holiday in Austria. I have to be honest and state that the biggest reason I didn’t prioritise an ‘I’m home’ post was because of wanting to cram in as much time as possible in the 5 days that we were both home together. Being in the house completely alone is a little nerve wracking, but I am surviving. I know things will get done around the house because there is just nothing else to do. And work is nice because it means that I have something to do during the day rather than just sit at home and mope. I have been invited to a BBQ this weekend, and may go. Plus, as of today there is a first aid class I am being sent on in another city.

So Stephen comes home on the 25th or so, Ashley comes home a few days after that, and then we all gear up for school again. Fun fun, I tell you. But being my last year of school for a little while, I can suck it up.

Is the Sun Even Shining Today?

I am noticing a pattern.

Days in England that are rainy happen. Stereotypically, they happen daily; but in actuality it is far less than that. British people just like to make it seem worse than it is. In New Mexico, when it rains, it is sunny beforehand. Then the clouds pour in, thicker and thicker, until the sky is dark and gloomy overcast. the darker it gets, the harder it rains; and if it was really really dark, then you know you are in for hail and tornadoes and you'd better be in the house. Here, it is just... grey.

Today I can tell the sun is up because I can see. But there are no clouds. It is just like the sky is missing. Just grey. Sometimes lighter grey, sometimes darker. But still grey. This is a strange sensation. It feels like I live in a completely different world.

This other-worldliness manifests in other interesting ways too. Sunrise, for example. I don't think I told you all, but in the winter it was dark at 4. Yes, 4 in the afternoon. Kids came home from school in the dark. I came home from school in the dark. The sun would rise about 7:30 in the morning, and set at 4. People went to work in the dark and came home in the dark, having never seen the sun. I still shake my head at that phenomenon.

Now that it is fast approaching Midsummer the tables have turned. The sun comes up at god-early 4 in the morning! Sunset is at a fairly normal time... 8:30 or 9. But 4 in the morning? Perhaps that wouldn't even be something I would notice if I would close my curtains against the sun that early... but here's the thing. There is no AC here, which is fine... but the breeze at night is nice. And closing the thick heavy sun-blocking curtains also blocks the breeze.

I wake up less at 4 in the morning when the sun comes up. But for a while, everyday, 4:30 Amy is awake. Suns up! I'm slowly training myself to block out the sun, which feels a shame since there is so little of it at the other side of the year.

On an update note: I finished my anti-biotics today. Called the doctor yesterday, as I am still wheezy and congested, to find out if they wanted to extend the course of anti-biotics. Let's just say that not all doctors here in the UK are as nice as the one I saw. I was told that he didn't know why I'd been put on such strong anti-biotics, that I wasn't coughing enough, that it was all in my larynx, and that the first doctor probably hadn't even listened to my lungs. I tried to correct him... but sometimes it is better to be a duck and let it all just slide off your back. I get to meet this guy next Wednesday, as he DOES NOT want to see me before then. Suddenly, I am not looking forward to going to the doctor.

Magical Recipes that Kids Want!

I have a big post coming as soon as Ash gets me pictures... but in the meantime I have been pressed for copies of these recipes. These were the goodies that I took to the kids and staff at the school that I was doing a placement at, and since I have been typing it up for 50 bazillion emails to them, I figured I might as well share with you too. This is the British-ised version. I'll highlight the American translation. (Warning... this is the Amy-translated British-ised version. It probably is a very poor quality translation into British English. They, poor souls, are probably staring at these recipes completely lost and confused. Oh well. I did my best.)

Multi-grain Snickerdoodles

Yield: 38 cookies
Baking temperature: 177 degrees Celsius (350 degrees Fahrenheit)
Baking time: 12 to 14 minutes

Dough:
6 oz (3/4 cup) unsalted butter
10 1/2 oz (1 1/2 cup) demerara sugar (raw sugar)
2 teaspoons baking powder
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 tablespoon orange juice
2 large eggs
4 5/8 oz (1 1/3 cup) whole rolled oats (not porridge oats) ground in a food processor
4 oz (1 cup) whole barley flour
3 oz (3/4 cup) strong wholemeal flour (stoneground 100 % whole wheat flour)

Coating:
2 3/8 oz (1/3 cup) caster sugar (regular white sugar)
1 tablespoon ground cinnamon

Preheat the oven to 177 degrees Celsius . Line 2 cookie sheets with parchment (or use a baking stone.) Cream the butter, demerara sugar, baking powder, salt, and vanilla in a large bowl. Beat in the orange juice and eggs, scraping the bowl, then add the oats, barley flour, and wholemeal flour, beating until well combined. Refrigerate the dough, covered, overnight.

To prepare the coating, combine the caster sugar and the cinnamon in a large plastic bag.

Roll the very cold dough, by the tablespoon, into balls. Drop the balls, 6 or so at a time, into the plastic bag. Gather the bag closed at the top, trapping some air inside. Shake gently to coat the balls with sugar. Place them on the prepared cookie sheets and flatter to about 1/2 inch thick, using the bottom of a clean, dry glass. Repeat until you have used all the dough.

Bake the cookies, reversing the pans midway through (top to bottom and bottom to top) until they are beginning to brown around the edges, about 12 to 14 minutes. Remove the cookies from the oven and transfer them to a rack to cool.

NUTRITION INFORMATION (1 cookie, 27 grams):
9 g whole grains, 109 calories, 4 g fat, 2 g protein, 6 g complex carbohydrates, 11 g sugar, 1 g dietary fiber, 21 mg cholesterol, 66 mg sodium, 33 mg potassium, 34RE vitamin A, 26 mg calcium, 57 mg phosphorus.

Multi-grain Sailor Jacks

Yield: 1 dozen muffins
Baking temperature: 191 degrees Celsius (375 degrees Fahrenheit)
Baking time: 20 to 23 minutes

Raisin and spice mixture:
3 1/2 oz (1/2 cup) demerara sugar (raw sugar)
3 3/4 oz (1/2 cup) packed muscovado sugar (brown sugar)
4 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ground ginger
3/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
8 oz (1 cup) water
3 oz (1/2 cup ) currents (raisins)
1 1/2 oz (2 tablespoons) treacle (black strap molasses)

Muffin Batter:
4 oz (1 cup) strong wholemeal flour (stoneground 100% whole wheat flour)
1 5/8 oz (1/2 cup) oat flour
1 3/4 oz (1/2 cup) whole rolled oats (not porridge oats)
1 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda (baking soda)
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
2 3/8 oz (1/8 cup) olive oil
1 large egg

Glaze:
2 oz(1/2 cup ) icing sugar (powdered sugar)
2 teaspoons fresh lemon or sour orange juice
1 teaspoon milk

Preheat the oven to 191 degrees Celsius. Lightly grease a muffin tin or line it with papers. Coat the papers with nonstick baking spray.

TO MAKE THE RAISIN AND SPICE MIXTURE
Place the ingredients in a medium saucepan and cook, stirring occasionally, over medium heat, until the mixture comes to a boil. Simmer for 5 minutes, then remove from the heat and let cool, overnight if desired.

TO MAKE THE BATTER
Which together the flours, oats, bicarbonate of soda and baking powder in a medium mixing bowl. Add the cooled raisin and spice mixture, oil, and egg. Stir just to combine. (Don't beat the batter or it will turn tough.)

TO BAKE THE MUFFINS
Scoop the batter into the prepared muffin pan, filling each cup about 3/4 full. Bake the muffins until a cake tester inserted into the center comes out clean, about 20 to 23 minutes. Remove from the oven and allow the muffins to cool in the pan for about 15 minutes, then turn them out onto a cooling rack to finish cooling.

FOR THE GLAZE
Mix all ingredients until smooth, and drizzle over the cooled muffins.

Nutrition Information: (1 glazed muffin, 85 grams):
18 g whole grains, 245 calories, 7 g fat, 3 g protein, 19 g complex carbohydrates, 3 g dietary fiber, 18 mg cholesterol, 329 mg sodium, 183 mg potassium, 9RE vitamin A, 1 mg vitamin C, 2 mg iron, 64 mg calcium, 131 mg phosphorus.

Another ni(e)ce video, and the requested come-to-visit-bring-stuff list.

Hmm... where to start today. How about this:

Angel sings to Mamie... in Spanish!

Now, I am not entirely sure that I am comfortable with this, but Christie did ask for me to please post my list-of-things-I-can't-get-here-and-really-wish-that-I-could. And since she asked me so nicely, I suppose I will. Just note, thais is in no way a solisitation. I am not begging you to send me things. This is my shopping list for when I visit home in the summer. So Christie and Dan, you DO NOT have to bring anything with you at all. Except you. Because if you came and forgot yourself... well, that would just be wierd.

Amy's US Shopping List

• Paper stick Q-tips (I dont care what kind, so long as they have a paper stick. The ones here are all plastic and they bend and my ears are SO itchy!)
• Green Chile and anything containing green chile, all heat levels, including superfireeatitanddie
• Campbells Golden Mushroom Condensed Soup
• Hot Cheetos (for Ashley)
• Malt-o-Meal or Cream of Wheat (I no longer care which)
• Hatch green enchilada sauce, medium
• masa harina preparada (for corn tortillas)
  
• Bear Creek Minestrone soup mix (again, for Ashley)
• Lucas Mexican tamarind candies (Oh, I miss those!)
• Kraft Spirals macaroni and cheese
• light corn syrup
• wax paper
• Hidden Valley Ranch powder packets (easier to transport, etc... I can mix it up myself.)
  

That is all that I can think of that might be reasonable to bring in. But again, this is not a solisitation.

On a completely different note, I have begun adding a list of my family and friends blogs on the sidebar. If you want your blog added, let me know. If you have a blog I dont know about, and dont want me to add it, let me know that too. (That way I can read it myself.) If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands.

Now... time for lesson planning. Nighty-night!

The Grand Ol' Potty...

Kelli sent me the most wonderful gift... video. And they are just so cute that I want to share them with you. Kelli, THANK YOU for the videos. Each one feels a little more like I'm involved in their lives. I can't wait to spend time with them in the summer.

Kiera talks to Mamie... (that's me!)

Katy reads "Goodnight Moon" to Mamie...

On a completely different note, This Sunday last was Mother's Day here in the UK. No, don't worry, you didn't miss it in the US. That day comes in May. So I officially get 2 days in 1 year to commemorate being a mother... and let me just say that I worked hard enough for it, thank you!

Dan the Man, in case any of you are wondering, will be in London in a little under 3 weeks. He will be the first person that I will see from home. I keep wondering if I should ask him to smuggle things in for me... a big pack of paper-stick Q-tips, perhaps, or a box of malt-o-meal. Or corn masa preparada. Or green chile. Or anything. But it is rude to just ask randomly. I'll be sending treats home with him. I am already hording things to send back with him . (teateateateatea) The goal is to convince him that he and Christie need NEED NEED to move here. And soon too.

What else, what else... I haven't done laundry in 2 weeks, but my lesson plans and all my grading are caught up. Complements on my behaviour management at school today (I was so disappointed; they were terrible. But apparantly terrible is better than they behave with their EVERYDAY teacher. Yay, me!) but those don't make me stop wishing that I were done. I don't like this school. I have been thinking a lot about that, actually... as much as I disagree with the concept of a private school, I am not sure that I am going to be able (or want to) teach the way the schools want. It is all to the tests. So maybe I need to keep an open mind about teaching in a private school. I have hooked myself up with some addresses. Perhaps I'll fill you in on /that/ story another time.

Stephen is happy at his job. He is SO busy all the time. People to help, model airplanes to test drive. Last week I went to his work with the intention of less distractions to get more done. What actually occured was lots of watching British TV commercials, and led directly into the last blog. Did Amy get stuff done? I don't think so.

Ash is doing much better in school. Her science GCSE classes are going fabulously. She has been getting A's and B's in her mock tests, and today she came home with an A* (absolutely highest score) in her mock exam. Wednesday is the next set of REAL tests, and I think she is ready. Every good mark boosts her confidence. Good prep for her A levels. She has tentatively decided to take an A level in Biology (and Stephen-the-Biologist is so proud.) and possibly another A level in Geography or something else. She just needed time to adjust.

And this is what I am talking about.

Americans are prudes... and here are some TV commercials that prove it. These are the kind of adverts that can make Amy blush.






To see more of the adverts we see, go to http://www.tellyads.com/2007_top_20.php

Oh my... It's already February?

When Gramy sends a comment that says I need to post more, that tells me something doesn't it?

It has been busy in this here house, and I am sure that you all want to hear all about it. I am in the midst of a 6 week student teaching placement... and I have distinctly mixed feelings. I am in a year 6 class (6th grade) and it is a particularly interesting place to be. Years 2 and 6 are the years of the SATS, which are significantly high pressure tests for both the kids and the schools. Year 2 they try quite hard to hide the tests, but Year 6 it is right there in the open. The kids know about them, know they will be judged, and most, actually, are told often that they will be found lacking.

At first I couldn't figure out why they placed me in a Year 6 classroom, as it was pretty obvious that they really didn't want me there. The administration has made it clear on more than one occasion that I am only to be teaching groups, and that the teacher needs to be responsible for things like lesson planning and whole group instruction. That doesn't work, though, since there are university requirements that must be met. That, and papers that I need to write afterwards that are based entirely on the process of planning, delivering, assessing, then planning from assessment.

While I could go on for quite a while... and I may still do, I want to give other things their fair shot to be spoken of.

Ashley is in the midst of a work placement thing, and is spending some time at the art store on the High Street. She spent yesterday running the till (that's the cash register), calculating change in her head, and unpacking canvases. She now knows more about canvases that anyone else I know. She will be there for another 2 days, and says she likes it. This morning, though, we ended up waking her. She had turned off her alarm for being too tired. Flashed me back to my much younger days when work was not nearly as important as things like hanging out with friends and going out and sleep. Made me feel surprisingly old.

Stephen has shaved his beard. It was lovely while it lasted. He is almost 2 different people. With the beard, he looks older, more dignified, more like the stereotypical Englishman, I think. Clean shaven, you can really see his baby face and he looks years younger than he actually is. Both ways, I had to take a few days to get used to it. He just didn't look like himself. I think he was glad to have shaved, though. His mum definitely likes him better clean shaven. I am happy either way, which I suppose it a good thing, as it is HIS face.

Quite a while ago, Dan and others asked me some questions, which I have yet to answer, So, because i have put them off for so long, I'll do it now.


1) What are you homesick for (besides Tristan)?

Hmm... this is a tough one. There are food items... green chile most especially, and corn tortillas, elk meat, and malt o meal. I miss the cactus. I miss the sunshine. I miss knowing my way around the town and larger grocery stores with familiar items in. I miss quarters. (They have 20p pieces, which seem just silly. I learned that 4 25's is 100 by using quarters. 20 p just seems like a waste.) [I learned that five 20s are 100 - Stephen] I miss my animals. I miss my family. More than missing my family is missing the ability I had to drop everything and go and see them. I have gone longer without seeing them, but the simple fact that I CANT go and see them if I wanted to makes it that much harder. I miss my friends. I am so cautious about making friends here. I am not comfortable opening up. So we do have friends, but they are Stephen's friends, or university colleagues. Not the same.

2) Are you feeling comfortable living in the UK? Are the cultural quirks working themselves out?

I have come to discover that Americans are prudes. I did not consider myself prudish in the States, as a matter of fact, I think I was quite the opposite... risqué, even. But here... commercials make me blush. Comments make me blush. People say things and I am offended, and it is no big deal to them. Sex is taboo in the US. Here it is something that is much more ok to tease people about. So... I am a prude. Knowing this means that I have to be very aware of the cultural lens that I look at things through, and often have to pick apart my response before sharing it with anyone else.

As far as comfort, I don't think that I can yet say that I am comfortable. I know my way around much better than I used to. I feel at home in my house. I don't notice the accents any more (there are even times when I cant tell the difference in a TV program between an American and a British accent.) But I absolutely feel like a foreigner. I actually have a new understanding of how it must feel for immigrants in the US. Sometimes it is downright unintentionally hostile. All the talk about immigrants stealing British jobs, how immigrants should be kicked out, how no one wants immigrants, immigrants should pay more taxes, more tuition, have less pay... all things I heard in the US, but now I am on the other side of the fence. It is not that people are intentionally unwelcoming. They don't see how the rhetoric affects the atmosphere. I wonder if Mexican immigrants in El Paso feel as uncomfortable and lesser.

3) Have you had to go to the doctor yet? If so, was it easy to get in (RE: Sicko).

I have been to the doctor, but not because I was sick. When you register with the NHS, you have an appointment with the nurse for a history, etc. That went smoothly. I had piles and piles of medical records, since I brought copies of EVERYTHING with me (all right, I hear the "Obsessive-Compulsive!" shouts from the peanut gallery... hush!) I have not been sick enough to go to the doctor. Neither has Ash. There is much less an environment of go to the doctor. Most people don't, unless they are VERY ill. It is frowned on. You don't need a doctors note to leave work sick, unless you are out for more than 5 days. Herbs are a bit easier to get, though the raw unprocessed ones are harder to find. I feel very lucky that I brought all mine and they made it through customs ok.

4) How did you do your first semester?

The school year is not divided into semesters here. And the grading system is messy. So bear with me. This degree that I am doing is a 3 year degree. However, none of the grades from the first year are worth anything. But the second and third year, each piece of assessed work is actually a percentage of my final degree grade. Classes are the entire year long, and each class has between 1 and 3 pieces of assessed work. My classes this year are Professional Studies (2 pieces), Science (2 pieces), English (1 piece), Maths (3 pieces), Art (2 pieces), and Inclusion (2 pieces). So, 50% of my final degree grade is in these pieces of work (all of which are really really huge, 8-15 (and some even larger) page papers with appendices and 10-20 researched cited sources.) So, 6 classes, each class is worth 8 1/3 % of my final grade. Divide that into the number of pieces of assessed work and you have how much each piece is worth.

Like I said, grading is messy. Degrees have value. A first degree is the best you can get, then a 2-1, then a 2-2, then a third. [Actually there is a grade that sits under a third, there's a level that is just called a pass. If an honours degree is being studied, a pass may lose the honours label. - Stephen] (I know, it makes no sense. I still am not entirely clear on it.) Assessed work follows the same type of scale. Technically, I could get up to a 100, but no one EVER gets anything above an 80. EVER. A 70 to 80 is a first. 60 to 70 is a 2-1. A 50 to a 60 is a 2-2. 40 to 50 is a third, and below that is a fail. Most people end up with a 2-2. That is average. 2-1 is really good, and it is nigh-on impossible to get a first degree. It happens, but it is always to those ephemeral people who have no lives. (And quite possibly to a colleague named Cleander, who has 2 small children and apparently never sleeps. Or so she says. We still cant figure out what she is doing to get those grades.)

Before I actually answer the question, I have to point out that I have really struggled. The writing style is completely different here. I remember being taught how to write a 5 paragraph essay... 1 paragraph introduction with topic sentence and 3 main points. 1 paragraph for each point, with evidence. Conclusion states topic and 3 points again. I remember being taught this and then told to NEVER WRITE LIKE THAT AGAIN. That's how they write here. And there can be absolutely no independent thought or opinion in the realm of academic writing at my level. EVERYTHING must be backed up with evidence. Someone else must say everything that I want to say. No one has taught me what is expected, I have just been assumed to know. So this whole time has been a process of figuring out exactly what it is that they want. And it has been tough. and I am not sure that I like it. I am a good writer, but it hasn't seemed like it lately.

Ok, my grades. Professional Studies, I have turned in 1 assignment, but have not gotten it back. Science, I have turned in 1, and got a 60. English, none turned in. Maths, 2 turned in. 1 a 56 (that was the first paper I've turned in) and the other a 78. Art, 1 turned in, got a 73. Inclusion, 1 turned in, got a 66. So I do some figuring, and right now I am looking at a 66.84%. That is a 2-1. This is not final, it will depend on how well I do in the rest of my assessed work. But I seem to be on an upward trend.

The hardest part of it all has been combating my own feeling of having poor grades. A 58 % looks terrible when you are used to that being a failing grade.

5) What language differences have you found?

Tons. Just for ease, the first word will be American English, and the second British English. And Ill provide the more daring of you a link to an American/British English dictionary. Whoever said that we speak the same language is WRONG.

• period - full stop
• quotation marks - speech marks
• parenthesis - brackets
• gas - petrol
• big rig - lorry
• tylenol or acetaminophen - paracetamol
• pants - trousers
• underwear - pants
• trash can - rubbish bin

There are so many, I almost don't know where to start. And this doesn't touch on words we spell differently (fetus/foetus or center/centre, for two) or words that we spell the same but say differently. (herb and route, off the top of my head.)

For far more than I can or will give, check out here. If you want to know the slang terms and see the site I use most often, then check out here. And for a website that points out cultural differences, go here.

All I want for christmas is my two front teeth...

I have SO much to tell you all, so hold tight for this super-long edition of the Family Blog!

PART 1: Cinderella ain't got nothin' on me!

Some friends of Stephen's got married just recently, and as his invitation was for him and his partner, I got to go! (Never mind his repeated threats to take his former colleague. heehee.) We had an ongoing thing... I had been pestering him for a dress up night while he had been calling me a silly girl and telling me that only girls like doing the dress-up thing. Needless to say, a wedding was a perfect opportunity. We both had to dress up.

The wedding was to be held... wait for it... in a castle! And there was going to be dancing! It was a masked ball! I can't help but wriggle with excitement right now, and all this happened a few weeks ago. There was a rush to make masks, because Amy apparantly does not buy masks, and looks for any and every opportunity to play with plaster of paris. Stephen's mask was Herne the hunter, a fur covered stags face with a leather nose, and mine was a dryad, covered in ivy, moss, and bark. I made an ivy boutonniere for his suit, and an ivy coronet with tendrils for me. I curled my hair and wore it long.


His suit was gorgeous; it even had a waistcoat, and his tie matched my dress perfectly. My dress was a green floor length gown (which had to be taken in 2 inches!) that looks purple in the right light.


The castle is called Lympne (pronounced Limb) castle, and is in Kent, about 45 minutes from where I live. It is lovely. It was dark and cold when we arrived... so I didn't get to see the outside from a distance, but we did a little bit of sneaking around the empty parts of the castle.

Parts of the castle are as old as the 13th century. If you want to look at their website, go HERE.

The dancing was a Céilidh (pronounced Kay-lee), which is an Irish-Gaelic Barn Dance. Stephen, of course, said that he doesn't dance. He was the most handsome man at the wedding, he took my breath away all night, and he did so dance with me. At one point, during a dance that sent us off in 2 different directions, he hunted me down so that I would end up dancing with him. As much as I couldn't keep my eyes off of him, he couldn't keep his eyes off of me, either.

We drank A LOT of wine, got home very very late, and could not stop commenting on how wonderful the other had looked. It was a magical night. I must be a princess.


PART 2: The Craziness Lead-Up and Tamale Goodness

The last time he wwent to London, Stephen went out of his way to hunt down a little shop that carries Mexican items, and bought me some masa harina and dried New Mexican red chiles. All so I could make tamales for Christmas. I decided that it would be even more fun if I invited along some friends, so the Sunday before Christmas, I invited Sam and Rob to come and make cookies and tamales with me. We ended up with 2 dozen tamales, berlinerkranzen, vanilla kipferls, peanut butter cookies, gingerbread cookies, sugar cookies (decorated, of course), and ladies fingers. There was so such, even after they had been split 3 ways. The tamales were sweet, with coconut, pecans, pineapple, and raisins. Having never made masa preparada before, it was an adventure. Of the 3 batches we made, we actually got 2 of them to float. The third... well, we just pretended it floated when Stephen took a drop of it and squished it flat and lay it across the top of the water. Even Ashley got in on the fun, by helping to paint sugar cookies, and of course, eating them.

That means that there were all of those cookies, tamales, an apple pie, and a sweet potatoe pie for Christmas dinner. Yum.

Now if I could just get over the homesick bit.

PART 3: Merry (insert holiday here) to All...

Merry Christmas to all of my family and friends. I miss you all. A lot.

Ok, so maybe this wasnt as long as I thought it would be.