Hi, I'm Not Dead.

Once upon a time I kept a weekly blog. During this mystical, magical time, I had whole Sundays to think about ideas, to write and edit and find pictures and generally be good at things. That time has ended.

Now we live in the dark times. Since the great reckoning, blog posts have been scarce, a thing of deep memory, of myth. There are some who question whether they ever happened at all. And those people are kinda dumb, to be honest, because it’s only been a month, sheesh.

So I don’t really have the brainpower to write anything too funny or clever, but I did just want to check back in and say HI I’M NOT DEAD and PLEASE DON’T STOP LOVING ME and other various things in caps.

So… hi, I’m not dead. Please don’t stop loving me. Here is what I’ve been doing since the last blog:

Teaching. Oh god, so much teaching. Prac teaching has been an incredible experience, I’ve taught whole days, multiple grades at once, cool science stuff, lame grammar stuff, some in between history stuff… whatever. I’ve made incredible leaps and bounds in my teaching, wonderful connections with kids, and a terrarium for some reason. 

Admittedly not a very good one.

·      All the other stuff that goes with teaching. I’ve been getting up super early, and planning late into the night. I’ve been photocopying everything I can get my hands on and giving up lunch times because kids are naughty. I’ve cried (only the once), I’ve laughed, I’ve hyperventilated, and I’ve sung instructions in stupid voices so that kids actually do what I’m asking them to do. 

Oh hey, that's me.

·      ASSignments. To be honest, I know that real life teaching is going to be super stressful, but it seems to me that doing that and then NOT having to write 5000 words about how I am doing that would be really good. So yeah, bring on the end to assignments. I’ve just finished two absolutely massive ones, but I have two more absolutely massive ones to start this week. Kill me.

Ok I know this looks like colouring-in but it was actually a really difficult assignment.

·      Baking. It makes me feel better, as discussed.

·      Buying a new laptop. One of the reasons I haven’t been blogging is because I knocked a bottle of water over my old faithful girl, the macbook in a red case I’ve been carrying around with me for almost five years. She spluttered, she coughed, and she died. I think I might actually write a eulogy to that beautiful machine for the next blog post I manage to write. Because while I love my new one, I don’t think I’ll ever be the same without that old white box.

·      Working on a musical. Yeah. I know, what. Boyfriend is directing the school musical. It starts tomorrow. Mostly my job is putting microphones on students, telling them to stop talking backstage and wading through their sweat to take the mics off again. It’s a good time.

Let's play, "Guess the Musical!"

·      Sleeping. A+. Would recommend.

·      Watching Game of Thrones. Super pissed about Cersei/Jaime/ the showrunners’ general lack of faith that their audience can understand nuanced characterisations. But still enjoying it very much. Though if I see another scene with Loras flirting with literally every man in Westeros one more time I’m going to hurl a brick at HBO. He’s meant to be heartbroken, you guys fail at queer characters ok bye.

·      ??

Yeah so, that’s me. I’ve missed blogging with every fibre of my being that isn’t devoted to all those other things. But I’ve honestly been working seven days a week, every week, for some months now. And it’s not about to stop. I have my fourth and final prac starting at the end of this coming week, three assignments and an exam and THEN I’ll be done. Also I have to be backstage in a musical for the next week. Basically, what I’m saying is, I’m not dead, please don’t stop loving me, and let’s reconvene in a another couple of weeks.

Until then, blogaroos.

xx

That Weird Feeling You Get When it's Over...

I’m BACK!!

Loyal readers, I missed you! I hope you didn’t miss me, I hope you just revelled in the joy that was four guest posts from four excellent people while I’ve been away. One more time, people, a round of applause for Alex, Hilde, Tim and Kyle. Life savers. The lot of them.

What have I been doing this past month? Well, so much. I’ve been writing assignments, and doing online quizzes, and teaching, so much teaching! And all the planning and marking and meetings that go with it. I’m glad to report that I made the right decision to get into this teaching business; I’ve learnt so much, have found something I’m good at, and it’s been wonderful. But also, it’s been exhausting.

Today, I finally handed in my last assignment for the semester. After months of hard work, and (I think) 12 pieces of assessment, it’s done, it’s all done, I am free. But instead of feeling great, I am just left with that really weird feeling that you get when something’s over. You know the feeling, like you should be doing something, but also you should be enjoying yourself, but ALSO you should relax forever and never move again. And it feels like your body and brain are moving in two different directions, possibly more. Possibly, your brain has turned into a rubrix cube… who knows?  

In the two hours since my crazy life stopped being so crazy, I have:

Sat down to watch a kids cartoon on TV.

Simultaneously played Monopoly on my phone and therefore saw nothing of the TV show.

Spoken to my mum for 20 minutes.

Picked up Boyfriend from a thing.

Washed the car.

Planted a tomato plant I bought like a week ago because it was close to death.

Started this post.

… so, a really chilled afternoon then.

It’s like, I *tried* to relax at the start there, but I haven’t been able to sit still long enough to actually turn my brain off. Why do our brains and bodies do this to us? It’s like a long-term adrenalin thing or something, like we’re keyed up to keep running long after the race is over, instead of collapsing at the finish line and enjoying a nice cider like we deserve.

Anyway, with uni over, it’ll be back to regular viewing here at Hum Drum Plum, and I might actually get around to doing some more overanalysing of things. That was fun, and everyone was very positive about it, so I better give the people what they want. Keep an eye on my facebook page for voting regards that soon.

Cheers, yo. 

Blurb

idk

I’ve had a lot of jobs in my relatively short life. You know how lots of authors have those blurbs on their dust jackets? The ones that go Blah Blah has been a teacher, gymnastics instructor, waitress, tight-rope walker, singer, and for one horrifying day she was mistaken for an architect. She has written for TV, radio and film. This is her 16th book. She lives with her husband and their three cats in London. Yeah. That’s been my life, except without the successful writing career, or the cats, or London.  

Once, when I was changing jobs for the 700^th time, I actually thought about what my blurb might look like on a book and got all excited imagining it. It will sound so interesting, I thought, like I’ve really lived a life. The only problem with this fantasy, of course, is that I’ve never written anything longer than a few thousand words, and any time I’ve ever had an idea for a novel, I’ve been too impatient to actually write it. So the chances of me having a dust jacket blurb are pretty slim. Regardless, I’m going to write my own blurb, right now, just to show off my many and varied roles, in order.

Lizzy King has been a purveyor of fine donuts, a serviced office receptionist, a receptionist for an OBGYN, a generally grumpy barista, unemployed, a cleaner, a stage manager, production manager and lighting operator, she’s been an admin assistant for a music department, a student assistant, a glorified roadie, a production coordinator for an arts venue, a conference centre coordinator and receptionist again. For a few horrible months she was an assistant accountant. Now she is a teacher aide, education student and blogger. She lives in Dalby with her partner, Boyfriend, and their imaginary animal friends. She has never written a book.

So yeah. There’s a lot of jobs in there, and almost all of them paid me. The good news is that education feels different. For the first time in my life I am doing something that feels right all the time. Even when it’s hard, it feels right. And it’s been such an amazing experience; I’m kind of kicking myself for not doing it earlier.  The other good news is that I have this really weird, broad range of experiences, most of which involved being quite organised, pretty switched on and not freaking out about the unexpected. So you know… things that are pretty important when teaching.

Sure, I’m flighty, sure I infuriate my parents, yes, I could probably stand to stick things out a bit more, but in my 10 years in the big, scary world of work, I’ve gotten almost every job I’ve applied for, I’ve learnt new things a million times over, and I’ve gained a whole lot of XP. I spent ten years trying a whole lot of things in an attempt to find where I really want to be. It was a process of elimination, but I feel like I’ve found it. And besides, if I ever do write that novel, my blurb will be awesome.

Please share your blurbs in comments. Out do me. Go on.

 

I just spent at least 5 minutes looking up why teachers are always depicted with apples.

News:

Next month is Potentially ProblematicOpinions Month. During this themed month, Alex Neill writes about things that are potentially problematic, and this year she’s asked other people to join in. So I am! However, next month will also include some pretty crazy uni stuff and professional experience at an actual school so I’m giving myself the option to not blog sometimes if necessary. So stay tuned for possible, potentially problematic opinion blogs and stressed out crying. 

The Ghost of Mathsmas Past

I have an exam tomorrow morning. It will be the first exam I’ve sat since 2008 or 2009, probably. And it’s for maths. Ok, no, it’s not a “maths exam” as such; it’s for a course about how to teach maths to primary school students. In case you missed the memo, I am in fact studying primary education, so suddenly I have to know about easy things like addition and subtraction, and less easy things like algebra and how to teach children to count. Can you even conceive of a time when you didn’t know how to count? That was a thing. That’s a thing lots of people are good at teaching to small children. That’s a thing I’m being examined on tomorrow morning. So given that my brain is completely consumed with studying, I’m not really in a place to write a blog about anything else. NO DON’T LEAVE. This isn’t a post about maths, honest, it’s a post about changing your opinons, and how weird that shit is.

To give you some context, I’d like to take you on a little journey back in time. The year is 2005, and yours truly is standing in a jewellery shop in Indooroopilly Shopping Centre, Brisbane. Teen Lizzy is wearing a school uniform and is excitedly looking at a pink love heart pendant. The shop assistant asks if it’s a gift or for Teen Lizzy. “It’s for me,” she says, “it’s a present to myself for finishing maths forever”. That’s right, I had just come from my Grade 12 Maths A exam, and I had walked up to the shops and bought myself a necklace because I deserved it, apparently, for having survived 12 years of mathematical torture. And because I genuinely thought that 1. pink love heart pendants were cool and 2. I’d never have to do maths again. Bless.

I mean... to look at me... it's actually quite surprising I wasn't any good at maths. #nerd4lyf

Skip forward a couple of years, we’re in a university exam hall, and I’m feverishly writing answers that look remarkably like maths onto an exam paper. Having chosen a minor in Psychology, I had accepted that yes, unfortunately I would have to endure one semester of first year statistics. I regurgitated as much as I could onto the exam paper before walking out and promptly forgetting everything. As I continued through my psych minor, I fudged and guessed my way through any statistics part of my essays and hoped no one would notice.

I was one of those people who bitched and moaned about mathematics, who claimed it had no use beyond the basics, who behaved like I had some kind of number-based dyslexia (which is actually a thing by the way, but I don’t have it). But the reality, of course, is that I have used maths every day of my life. The day I bought that pink love heart necklace I would have mentally calculated if I had enough money to cover it, would have thought about how long I had until my bus left, or how many marks I had hopefully gotten on the exam to get the overall grade I wanted.

But now, I am enamoured with it. One semester studying this course has completely changed my mind about maths. I see now that it is a universal language, that is important, even that it can be beautiful. And I also am coming to understand why I have struggled with it for so long. The main focus of this course is on teaching maths for understanding. Not just teaching the multiplication table, but actually teaching strategies for multiplying, for making sure kids actually understand what they are doing when they multiply, or divide, or find common denominators or translate equivalent fractions. Some of my teachers taught like this, but most didn’t. So once maths got beyond the realm of basic concepts and memorising, I had zero skills in my arsenal to cope with the bigger stuff.

I think *because* I have struggled for so long with the subject, I feel really empowered to do better by my future, hypothetical students. Because I know how embarrassing it is to stand at the checkout and have no idea how much your third of the share house groceries should be, I want to make sure that no student of mine has to experience that. And because I have so drastically changed my mind on this topic, I want to empower young’uns to feel good about maths, to feel like it is just as fun as science, just as interesting as English or history. I want them to feel like that always, so that instead of struggling through maths education, they’ll flourish. I want to give students the most positive maths foundation possible, so that they can be much, much better at it than I ever will be.

Ms. King out. 

I Am The Boyfriend - Riff & Rhyme, a Guest Post

Ladies and Gentlemen, your attention please/Let me introduce myself before I bring you to your knees/Today I am the Master of these Ceremonies/Thrilling and delighting like the flying trapeze...

We interrupt your regularly scheduled blogging to bring you this special bulletin and extra- special-guest-hosted-edition of Hum Drum Plum. That’s right bloggeroos...wait, is that too familiar? I feel like that’s Lizzy’s word; we haven’t even been formally introduced. Well, not directly. This is more of a blogger-ruse - allow me to explain. Lizzy has been called away to familial duties, so I have stepped in to keep the streak alive. You, dear reader, know me simply as Boyfriend. Yes, that Boyfriend. The one who dragged our host out to the country so I could help transform teenagers into the leaders of tomorrow. But I digress. I am here, as I said, to blog - so blog I will.

Need to find some willpower, apply it to the task/Realise that clarity’s not bottled or comes in a glass/I need to take a shot; of one kind not another/Face my demons head on instead of trying to run for cover/I need to pay attention to these lines I wrote/You can try to drown your sorrows - but the little bastards float...

I’ve only officially been teaching for five terms. Fifteen months, not counting holidays; a drop in the ocean in terms of how long some have been doing it, and only 1.25 of my own 29 years on the planet. But in that time, I have already evolved to be twice or three times the educator I was when I started (Ding! Level 2 Educator Class: +5 to discipline, +10 to effective planning, +10 to emotional fragility and substance abuse) and would happily admit that I have learnt as much from my charges as they hopefully have from me.

In terms of employment, I’ve been a lot of things in my time - actor/writer/director/producer/ rapper, customer service assistant (or Customer Service Ass. as my paycheck pointed out), rug salesman, kitchenhand and noodle dispenser, learning support teacher aide and confectionary retailer, among others. But even at this early stage of the game, an argument could be made for teacher being one of the roles that has had the most impact on me; definitely top two or three.

Lights on-off, eyes can’t adjust/Day-light, dark-bright, pain arcs and thrusts/ Wallowing or dealing if you feel you must/But always at the back of your mind - dust to dust/Ash to ash, back to back where it began/Washed up victim of a complex scam/Twist and turned, taut and tied, stoked and fired/Last page of legal documents reveal they lied...

By impact, I mean emotionally and mentally. It’s like nothing else I’ve done. I could easily while away the hours regaling you with tales of how hard I’ve worked over those five terms, the hours I’ve put in, the unpaid overtime that makes up the vast majority of those hours (and which more than justify the extra handful of weeks holiday we get per year - I’m not even going to start on that with you dear reader, as this is our first time together and I don’t want it to get ugly. Suffice to say, until you do it, you can’t really fathom what goes on) and the extra miles I have gone to and am expected to go to in the course of my job.

I could tell you about all the wonderful things - the connections I have made with staff, students and the community, the contributions I’ve been able to make through extra- curricular events like musicals and fundraisers, and the simply indescribable feeling of knowing that you’ve helped a child “get” something, or helped shaped their life or future in some way, however infinitesimal. I could tell you about all the less-than-wonderful things - the kids who have gone out of their way to make trouble or bully people, the classes that I hated, the times I felt tiny and alone, the disrespect and the moments of stomach- clenching, all-encompassing doubt.

I want to tell these kids when they step through that doorway/That if I could I’d take them and look over them always/And everything about them is amazing in all ways/ And even if they're changing all their parts that the core stays/But this time is a raw stage/And words can be misunderstood and easily cause rage/More maze - that's whats up ahead to navigate/They don't need a preacher, just a teacher who can captivate/Maybe one who helps them see that they don't always have to hate/They could learn they've got a choice and got a voice and master fate...

As I’m sure you’ve guessed already though, I’m not going to describe these things to you. I’ve decided for today to focus on one thing that has become a real struggling point for me recently, as this written medium provides me with an outlet through which to best phrase some things that may otherwise come out awkwardly or be misconstrued. I teach Drama, and in these classes, I try to build an environment that values safety and respect, where people can try and fail and experiment and improve. And in these Drama classes, more often than not, there are more females than males.

I wish I could tell some of female students that they’re beautiful and I have love for them.

Now before you freak out, just listen - not that I’m in love with them, or any silly rubbish like that. I just want these girls to be told by someone who’s not their family that they’re pretty and loved and can be whatever they want to be. I have caught wind lately of how many students, particularly female, are self-harming and suffer from depression and self- esteem issues. Now, I’m not suggesting that one gesture of encouragement from some teacher is going to solve any of that, or that every girl’s confidence and problems are linked to how they look or are dependent on being thought of as attractive. Not even a little. And I’m not suggesting that one male teacher knows all there is to know about the minds of these girls, or that he knows best, or anything at all. But for the last little while, I have just wanted to express my helplessness and swell of emotion that comes from hearing their stories or seeing their faces.

I hear how they are treated by boys. I hear how they are treated by other girls. I hear how their parents or siblings treat them. And it fucking tears me up inside to know I can do so little to protect or help them, and I just want to be able to tell them: “You are beautiful. You are young, and so full of life and promise and potential. If you can hang in there, if you can realise how many people around you love and appreciate you, even when they may not always be good at showing it, then you’ll see it gets better, and that these school days do not need to dreaded or feared. If that boy treats you like that, you don’t really want to be with him anyway. Its ok to wait to have sex, and its ok to want to have sex. Don’t ever, ever let anyone make you feel ashamed about wanting (or not wanting) to explore your body or your sexuality; wanting to do those things does not and will not ever make you a ‘slut,’ nor does the opposite make you ‘frigid’ or a prude. I promise if you are brave, and take chances with making new friends instead of being stuck in negative cliques, that good things will happen. I promise that you are pretty, and have worth, and that you are capable of loving and worthy of being loved. The world will always have dickheaded people and shit days in it - but those days never last, and those people will fade away. You can do anything and be anyone.”

“I cannot fight right now. I cannot rage, or roar, or do the things my soul yearns to do. But I stand - know this. And tomorrow is, they say, another day. Well, good. Tomorrow then. Or the day after. Or the morning after that. I will rage. And I will roar. I will.”

This is of course, the iceberg tip of an issue. One could talk for days on the way we are conditioned to treat males and females, and the way they are conditioned to see each other, and how that means that arguably boys too often are not educated enough in their teenage years to see girls as people, or how it means that women are told how to avoid rape instead of men being told not to rape. Lizzy has some great and interesting ideas and opinions on this topic, so I’ll leave future musings up to her. I’m no expert. I’m not even an experienced teacher yet. What I am, is someone who feels deeply, and who wants to help turn these kids, regardless of gender, race or ability, into capable, thoughtful citizens of the world who dream large and live larger. I want them to be better than I am.

Thankyou for letting me riff and rhyme for you today, dear reader. I remain your humble servant.

Love, Boyfriend. 

Identification Please

Totes relevant... read on.

For some reason, I started thinking about who I am today. I had this rather profound thought while waiting for a burger at The Northside Convenience and Take Away shop (home of Dalby’s best burger). Who am I? Or more specifically, how do I identify? With what groups am I most strongly linked?

Some people first and foremost identify with their nationality. Which I understand; being Australian is great, and I really love living in this country. But I don’t think I’m particularly patriotic, I don’t think we’re *better* than others or that we should keep our stuff and our culture all for ourselves. I’m certainly not opposed to our culture changing or becoming “less Australian” and I couldn’t give a shit about any of our sporting teams.

Others feel strongly about their gender. Men are real men, women are real women and small furry creatures from Alpha Centauri are real small furry creatures from Alpha Centauri (with compliments to Mr Adams). Whereas I see my femaleness as a fact, not a lifestyle. It’s just a thing. A thing that I’m ambivalent towards. I don’t particularly love being a lady or doing “lady’s things” but I have no desire to grow an extra appendage and start loving aforementioned sports teams and other such “man things”. I’m a girl, but it doesn’t define me.

I think probably I most strongly identify with being Gen Y, which is a weird thing to say I guess, given that it’s often thrown about like a dirty word. But I like being young and I like being into technology and I like knowing about new things and trying new things pretty much just because they are new. I am not ashamed by my addiction to social media or my inability to do anything without telling as many people as possible about it. These are things I am, actually, proud of.

I also identify strongly as a nerd. I like things (books, movies, shows etc), and lots of those things are considered nerdy. But more than that my like of those things isn’t a passing, “oh yes I saw that it was good”, it’s more like “OMG DID YOU GUYS SEE THE NEW EPISODE SEND HELP IT WAS THE BEST THING OF MY LIFE I’M GOING TO WATCH IT AGAIN”. So yeah, I’m a nerd. It’s a good thing to be.

I guess I feel like I’m floundering a bit at the moment, because while it’s great to be a Gen Y nerd, I feel like I have a lot more in me; a lot more things I could be.

I care about the fact that our world is still filled with bad things like slavery, poverty and disease. I don’t like how we farm animals, or how we treat our environment. I’d like to do things about these things, I’d like to identify as the kind of person who takes action in the face of such things.

I’d like to identify as a writer, I’d like to be brave and stop making excuses and discipline myself to write.

I’d like it if the job I did was something I could identify as, and be proud of. And I’m hoping that as I embark on a new adventure of studying next year that “primary school teacher” can be a thing that skyrockets itself to somewhere near the top of the “things I identify as” list.

I want to be the kind of person who gardens, who keeps animals, who writes, who eats healthily, whose actions make a difference, who is conscious of the environment and the world, who has fun, who makes people laugh, who loves.

I did some gardening today. So I’m on my way.