Interviews begin....

The afghan is growing. This means that the story is not. I woke up at 5.30, and knew that I should toddle off to the computer like a good girl and churn out some more drivel. Instead I knitted 3 more rows. I'm kidding myself that I'm still being productive, and indeed, it's exactly the same sort of obsessive activity as NaNoWriMo. One has a word count, the other has 30 rows of pattern before you can change onto the next pattern block. (I'm up to 21 rows on the current block. Did that since Tuesday. Word count: 18000.) It's not a good sign when writing on my novel.... my beautiful child of the imagination..... is less enticing than doing a few rows of glorified stocking stitch. But here's why I've been writing as much as I have:

Today is the day we start interviews at work with all of the year 10s. Me being a year 10 student manager (Oh bow down before my awesome power) I have to be there at them all. Hmmm, let's see. 250ish kids @ 15 minutes each + intense discussions of which subjects will get them where they want to go in two years time = my life being sucked away by these students and their maniacal ambitions of qualifying for high status courses and ultimately ruling the world.

Whatever happened to the three R's? Don't these selfish adolescents know that I've got a novel to write? (Or an afghan to knit?) Actually, once I'm embroiled in the whole process it's interesting, and it's good to touch base with every kid. Some of them have done brilliantly, and it's lovely to be able to congratulate them on how they've done and rubber stamp the courses they've chosen. Then there's the bulk of them, who have done ok and are really nice kids, but who may lack direction and need some help tailoring their courses. Some of them want to do subjects that blind Freddy could see are beyond them, so there's a bit of negotiating involved. Jack is in this group. He's done far better than last year (straight C's.... and C = crap.... so boy did he get into trouble. One of those kids who should be getting A's, especially in Maths and Science, but took things a bit too easy.) He's lifted his game, but not enough to be in the first or second round of interviews.

Then there's the group of kids that are heartbreaking. They're the ones who have either slacked off during their whole school lives, or who just don't have the wattage upstairs to be able to cut it in VCE. Actually, the 'low wattage' kids aren't so much of a problem. By the end of year 10 they know that a glittering career in rocket science is beyond them, and they don't care anyway. Their interests lie in other, usually more practical areas. They're fine with that, and so are we, as long as they're happy. It's the smart kids who haven't lifted a finger for 11 years and have nothing but shocking marks and bad behaviour on their records. They swish in with their high falutin' list of subjects they want to do, and the look of absolute shock in their eyes when they're told that they can't do Chemistry or Maths Methods or whatever is awful to see. They've finally run up against the brick wall of consequences.

This is why I really hate the state of affairs when kids are automatically promoted every year. It's a really hard one, because to be kept down does nothing for them socially or emotionally; but when year after year a bright but bone lazy kid gets put up in the next year level when his results are mediocre he gets to believe that having a good work ethic is a waste of time, because you get what you want anyway. It's like seeing a kicked dog when they get the look in their eyes that says "oh shit. I can't get out of this one."

Sometimes they cry. Sometimes the really smooth talkers negotiate a position where they get at least some of what they want because they're going to reform and become saintly. Sometimes that actually happens, because usually it's all a maturity thing. By the end of year 10 they're well on the way to growing up, and over the next two years there can be an enormous change in kids. Or not. We've got to have a crystal ball to peer into the future to decide....

So my life at work over the next month will be full swing boogie-woogie. It's interesting, because I really love the kids we have at the school, (well.... most of them, anyway....) but it's tiring. And today I say goodbye to my year 11 ESL class. I've had these kids for two years now, and they're fantastic. They don't know it yet, but they'll be getting another teacher for year 12. There's only one class of year 12 ESL next year for 20 students (don't get me started on the stupid state government and their pathetic cost-cutting measures for education), so the teacher who has taught this level of ESL for years naturally gets them. That's not me. I'll be sorry to see them go. I've trained them up beautifully in the art of sarcasm as humour, the Aussie vernacular and an appreciation of Vegemite.

I'm lying about the Vegemite. You really have to be born here to appreciate the glorious taste. They call it 'kangaroo poo.' I'm going to miss the little horror-heads.....