Storm Clouds

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The last lesson of the day arrives with an uncertain outlook. The crew of Prometheus always know that there are three critical moments for the outcome of a lesson:

  1. At the start of the lesson.
  2. At the end of the lesson.
  3. During the lesson.

Friday’s flotsam was beginning to wash up outside of the classroom. They have a well-worked routine when it comes to supply teachers. A scout is sent ahead to investigate the conditions whilst the rest of the group join in with the general melee that is collecting on the corridor.  I think they have a crude grading system for what a supply may look like. The system probably goes from clueless to anxious to cantankerous (those being the ones who try to establish some order). Having been in the school for almost six months, a few of the students recognised me. During that time, I had developed an outer layer that was reinforced with the non-taking of bullshit. The kids entered the classroom really quite well.

As with Year 7, Year 9, Year 10, and Year 11, Year 8 can be a funny year.

‘The storm blew up from the depths of hell and filled the world without warning. the clouds rolled in thick and black, and an angry stain spread across the sky like spilled oil.’

It was to be a creative writing task.

“The storm clouds had not covered the distance between entering the room and being seated at their desks. I hand books to a couple of quiet students and asked them make sure that everyone had one. Apart from several silly squalls were setting a different tack until I adopted my favourite teacher voice, the one that gets attention. Captain Evans was  in charge and his ship ran without mutinies. 

They had survived storms like this before, Captain Evans reassured himself. There was nothing that he had not seen, but deep within him a lone voice disagreed, somewhat. Deep in the rawness of his soul, Captain Evans was understanding what lay before his eyes. he braced himself for the arrival of the giant wave, a wall of merciless indifference that could rip bow and stern asunder. 

The moment had passed when they could ave outrun the coming leviathan, so the only thing left was to face the thing head on.

He gave the orders to lower the sails. His crew worked quickly, their nerves brittle under the strain. Knots were tied and then re-tied as only moments remained before the precipice would be above them. the howling wind slowed and, trapped in the palm of the beast, they waited. Each began to say their prayers, even the ones without a god to speak to, and then…”    

The bell went.

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mike2all

This is the story of what happened to me when anxiety took a grip. I lost my senses, I lost my job, and I lost me. I then turned to writing to find those things that had gone missing. How can you teach when you believe that education is a business that is failing in its primary remit of helping to create a better society? Indeed, how can you teach when you believe that you have nothing of value to pass on? The book/blog is the story of my recovery from the absolute darkness of the early days. It is an Odyssey through my life over the last twelve months and a retracing of my steps to discover how I found myself there. More than all of that, it is a re-evaluation and a rejoicing of all that which I call life. Happy reading and I hope it helps. There is madness, Everyday Madness, and not all of it comes from within.

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