and now for the ugly truth kids...

Drawing of the buds of my (potentially dead) Ash tree

Lesson 1: Shame=excellent motivational technique
In our first week in college, our Science teacher gave us a quick "test".
He handed out a load of buds and asked us to identify them by tree. I was completely and utterly clueless. It turns out....I have never really looked at a tree in my life....ever. The shame.


Lesson 2: Don't plan a lesson unless you have the means of supplying the relevant resources
Ego completely devestated, I started looking around and trying to identify trees by their buds. I became quickly obsessed. I have countless pictures of buds on my camera; some of them identified;others....less so!! I entusiastically planned a lesson for the infants on distinguishing between Ash and Oak trees. I was REALLY into it! I did this however, before having located an Oak tree to source buds from. Ash trees; I was finding everywhere. There was one conveniently located a couple of steps from my door, which I used to play on when I was a kid. (We were later evicted by bees...) I snapped a collection of twigs from it with only a minimum amount of regret. It was for educational purposes after all... Locating the Oak however was quite the adventure. I found a picture of the kind of buds I was looking for on trusty Google images, and off I went. I was a constant source of annoyance to my familial chauffeurs (aka:brothers). "Could you slow down here, I just need to check the buds...." I went for walks. It wasn't happening. I went to the grounds of the the University in my local town. No dice. A million beech trees, some sycamores....but nothing that resembled an Oak. I did eventually locate some Oaks....randomly and thankfully. It was a strange and challenging thing to have to locate on demand though. I couldn't google it. I couldn't scan back in my memory. Where have I seen Oak trees before? I had no reference point. My brain had not been filing this information it would seem... And so, it was a worrying time for me. I assure you.


Lesson 3: Ensure you don't use cuttings from dead trees when trying to monitor growth in the classroom.
After our lesson on buds, I had placed two cuttings in jars on the windowcill before encouraging the children to check their growth daily to see which one will bloom first.

Yes. That's right. I am now thinking that the conveniently located Ash tree mentioned above is in fact....dead. Actually, I'm not entirely sure just yet. There's still time. It might yet sprout. I'm praying. Vigorously! In the classroom jars, the Oak's leaves are emerging now, but the Ash is looking worryingly inactive. My Ash tree at home is looking similarly dubious....and yet....the Ash tree down the road is as developed as the Oak tree that I have in the classroom. I may have to sneakily replace it one morning with a tree which is definitively alive...

(Lesson learned: Science is tricky...Who knew...)

And all this matters because....

Oak before Ash, we're in for a splash
Ash before Oak, we're in for a soak!

The arrival of leaves on Ireland's two most common native trees are traditionally used as a weather forecast for the upcoming summer.
Currently, there are three possible scenarios in existence...
A. The Ash tree in my garden is not dead and the Oak did in fact sprout before the Ash. Ergo: We should be looking forward to a lovely Summer.
B. The Ash tree in my garden is indeed dead and I have no idea which tree actually sprouted first. Ergo: Cross my fingers and hope for a lovely summer, regardless of any evidence to the contrary...like i usually do
C. The Ash and the Oak are sprouting simultaneously....so we're in for a mixed summer??

Either way...I think I will have to repeat my experiment again next year...

So now you all know: I know nothing about trees.

and this will feel all right...

detail of our outdoor collage

Day 3 of my induction week:
We have art.
The teacher shows us this youtube video.



This is the "stimulus" he tells us for "the bit of art" we are about to make. We daydream about our future classrooms equipped with electronic whiteboards, and the kinds of wonderfull things we will be able to do with them. We ignore for the moment the possibility, nay probability that we will not have these kinds of resources at hand. We will find a way! We are young and full of the joys that we see vividly ahead of us.

The teacher gives a small talk about the importance of visual literacy, about not only encouraging kids to produce art, but also to give them the vocabulary they will need to talk about their art, their classmate's art and famous works of art. Give them the vocabulary young while they are still unafraid of giving their honest opinions! He talks to us with a minimum of arty jargon, no condescension and yet manages to impress upon us the importance of going forth and imparting necessary vocabulary. I am impressed. I am filled with optimism for the years ahead. "This. Is. Great." I think to myself.

We sit at 5 or 6 oil cloth covered kitchen style tables. We are a group of 33 young teachers in training. We listen to our teacher talk a little about Kandinsky and the sort of questions we might ask our future students about his work. "I am eliciting responces" he tells us as he walks through the easy introduction to our task. We nod sagely and imagine ourselves busily elicting in our future imagined classrooms.

Before long, we are all 33 of us sitting contentedly, pastels in hand, totally focused on our little pieces of card. We are playing with colours. We are building our own concentric circles in squares. We are dabbing sponges in dry powdered paint and water. We are experimenting. We are learning the words "wax resist" and we are doing it too. We are artists for an hour, but not only this we are happy in the knowledge that we will at some point be able to provide a group of 30 odd youngsters with this same experience that we are now enjoying ourselves. We leave the room full of hope for the teachers that we want so much to become.

Later that day, we emerge from lunch and we are greeted with this happy sight! We are the unlikely artists of a new temporary outdoor exhibition. People are passing and conversations are being sparked. We are pleased. Silently we make a mental note to ourselves: We will display our future students' work creatively.

Our art drying and exhibiting itself in the sun