There are seven robots on Mars. I don’t know what they talk about (if indeed they talk at all), but I’ll warrant that they have an opinion on what I should be doing in my classroom. I imagine they fart binary at one another, spending most of their time traversing rocky plains. I imagine them […]
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There are seven robots on Mars. I don’t know what they talk about (if indeed they talk at all), but I’ll warrant that they have an opinion on what I should be doing in my classroom. I imagine they fart binary at one another, spending most of their time traversing rocky plains. I imagine them … Continue reading “Seven Robots”
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It was around the time of Westland-Lynx or ‘Have you seen Sid?’ or it could have been the age of Mr Blobby for all I care, but whatever it was, it registered in my marrow and can be found there now like a vast layer of compacted bones in my fossil record. It was John … Continue reading “Time & Motion”
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This past week was something of a professional dream come true. I’d long wanted to conduct a Book Week debate in which I took a deliberately contrarian position. This past Friday, we pitted teachers against students, debating the motion ‘This house believes that novels are better than video games’. Below is my speech. I am … Continue reading “First Negative: Teaching is a Dark Art”
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The stars were aligned, yes. But they were dark stars. I awoke, choking in the ink of the small hours, wanting nothing more than to be gone. Nights ago I had indeed tried to awaken myself with the crash of my softer than expected forehead against the of-course-closed French windows. Half-asleep and whirring, I had […]
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The stars were aligned, yes. But they were dark stars. I awoke, choking in the ink of the small hours, wanting nothing more than to be gone. Nights ago I had indeed tried to awaken myself with the crash of my softer than expected forehead against the of-course-closed French windows. Half-asleep and whirring, I had … Continue reading “Teacher In Amber”
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Oh, the luxury of a sure foot. At every bend in the path, I will God into being and he mocks me at the precipice. Inching, thinking only of myself, I keep my eyes to the mountain above. Footing. My daughter walks ahead of me, loose in her shoes. To watch her play with existence … Continue reading “Precipice”
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