Tous Ensemble!? Iedereen samen!?

 
*geschreven ongeveer 48 uur nadat de Rode Duivels niet meer actief in Brazilië waren*

Ik heb tot nu toe nooit een woord Nederlands geblogd. Waarom?  Tot op heden heb ik nooit de drang gevoeld om ook dat wat er in mijn hoofd zich afspeelt ook in mijn moedertaal neer te laten dalen op een toetsenbord.  Maar de afgelopen 48 uur heeft er iets plaatsgevonden in mijn brein dat ik enkel en alleen kan en wens in het Nederlands weer te geven.

Stallie reed gisteren naar Limburg.  Voor de meeste onder u, zeker die Stallie persoonlijk kennen, is dit op het eerste zicht niets bijzonder.  Gewoon een autorit van O naar B waar ik nog eens met mijn moeder en mijn zus zou worden herenigd. Twee mensen waar ik vurig van hou, waar mij hart sneller voor klopt, mensen die ik het beste toewens,  twee zielen die mijn leven meer kleur geven,  twee vrouwen die sterker zijn dan ik ooit had gedacht, twee wezens die hun talenten delen met velen....kortom ik was onderweg naar huis om herenigd te worden met twee mensen waar ik heel vurig fan van ben.  Omwille van het zoveelste weekendongeluk werd ik wel gedwongen een alternatieve route te nemen. En voor een keer reed ik dan ook via secundaire wegen naar huis.  Voor ik vertrok had ik aan mijn manlief laten verstaan dat ik dacht dat de meeste Rode Duivels-vlaggen wel al in de verkleedkoffer zouden beland .

Want kijk, wat had je nu gedacht dat dit een blog-entry zou worden over familie en emoties? Alhoewel dit gaat om een fan-familie en de ploeg waar ik toch wel een aantal gelijkaardige gevoelens voor koester.  Stallie heeft namelijk de afgelopen weken natuurlijk net zoals heel wat mensen op deze aardkloot ook naar een wit-zwart rond rondvliegende object gekeken dat door 22 mensen in alle richtingen werd gestuurd.  Stallie kijkt namelijk graag naar voetbal en al langer dan vandaag en ja, Stallie is ook een fan van de Rode Duivels. Wat had u gedacht?  En ik geef ook heel eerlijk toe dat ik soms wel eens bijzonder emotioneel kan zijn als die gasten met of zonder shirtje op de grasmat verschijnen. Ja, ik was er bij in dat jaar dat de nationale ploeg zichzelf oversteeg.  De avond dat Georges Grün zijn kopje onder een bal plantte zodat we een paar weken later naar Mexico mochten vertrokken, zat ik in het kleinste kamertje mijn nagels af te bijten. Ik durfde gewoon niet meer te kijken en koos dan maar voor mij een tijdje terug te trekken.  Maar vanbinnen was ik die avond intens gelukkig. Precies of er vuurwerk afging. 

Dat jaar was ik 12 en keek ik samen met mijn broer en mijn papa naar het voetbal of mijn leven er afhing. Ik dronk cola uit een glas met een afbeelding van Georges&co er op en hoopte dan vurig dat als ik het glas nog een keer extra ledigde dat dit dan geluk zou brengen.  Ja, ik heb zelfs hartjes zitten te tekenen in mijn schoolagenda om er voor te zorgen dat al mijn liefde voor die ploeg naar de juiste plek zou worden afgevuurd.  En dan kwamen die mannen naar huis. ZOTTE TOESTANDEN!!!!!   Dat zijn de enige correcte woorden die ik er nog kan opplakken.  Onze natie werd zot. Want hoe ontvang je een 'ploegske' dat net door Maradonna en familie uit een toernooi is gespeeld en ook niet zijn wedstrijd voor de derde plaats heeft gewonnen?  Awel, je geeft ze een ontvangst in de hoofdstad en ze mogen dan netjes opdirkt op het balkon van het stadhuis gaan staan wuiven. Vervolgens mogen ze dan een handje gaan schudden op het koninklijk paleis.

En de fans die hadden dan ook nog eens het excuus om nog eens goed uit de bol te mogen gaan en te laten zien aan iedereen dat ze hadden meegeleefd.  Sommige van die beelden zal ik nooit vergeten omdat ze zo onwezenlijk waren en omdat ze precies in scene waren gezet.   Heel mooi en ook best onvergetelijk.  Pfaff kan er nu er nog heel wat minuten mee vullen. 

Dit jaar ging ik dan net zoals zo veel anderen van dit surrealistisch land over de boeg voor iets dat rood, geel of zwart was en duivelse kwaliteiten werd toegedicht.   Yes, deze dame begon zéér intens van elke Duivel de resultaten in het oog te houden en iedere belangrijk voetbalwedstrijd probeerde ik op de voet te volgen. Ik ging me weer verdiepen in de cijfers en feiten en kocht zelfs een WK-special van een mannen magazine.  Ja, ik ga ver in mijn fan-zijn maar ik wil het dan ook goed en doordacht zijn.  Een keer dat de aftrap was gegeven van de Mondiale in Brazilië wou ik weten wie er in de basis van de meeste landen zou staan, las ik menig spelers-rapport van de FIFA en ik ging echt geconcentreerd voor een tv-scherm zitten met een Magnum Champagne om mijn vingers te kunnen aflikken.  Deze supporter was er klaar voor.  Soms waren ze zelfs momenten dat ik wat jaloers was op die mannelijke collega's die er heel openlijk voor uitkwamen dat ze Panini stickers zaten te verzamelen.  Eentje zei dat dit bij hem een soort kinder-geluk teweeg bracht en plots begreep ik het waarom voetbalfans soms van een andere planeet lijken te komen.  En ik wou dat ook wel nog eens een keer ervaren.

Maar ik heb een soort sociale handicap. Eentje die gelinkt is aan mijn identiteit.  Belgen zijn soms namelijk over heel wat beschaamd en we zijn dat ook al voor jaren over ons voetbal.  We worden omringd door landen die gewoon een ander soort gevoel weten ten tonele te voeren als hun landgenoten zich op of een of andere manier profileren.  België heeft het nog steeds niet onder de knie en weet nog steeds geen blijf met zijn gevoelens en frustraties.  Want wat als die bal niet landt waar ze hoort te landen en enkel in ons doel? Wat doen we als de bondscoach een man blijkt te zijn die we dachten dat hij niet was? Wat als er eens een rode kaart te veel valt en onze sterspeler gekwetst geraakt?  Wat als we verliezen? Wat als we naar huis komen voor die halve finale? Wat als Eden eerder Pico blijkt te zijn? Wat als er eentje een bal te veel heeft doorgelaten? Wat als....

Ja kijk, daar bestaat dus geen scenario voor. We staan terug met onze voetbalschoentjes op de aarde.  Dat is het probleem niet.  Daar zorgt menig analist wel voor en ik wist niet dat er zoveel waren.  Zo werden we ondertussen als 'kutbelgen' omschreven door een 'vriendelijke' Nederlandse buurman en kort na het tegendoelpunt van Argentinië stuurde een andere, ook toevallig een Nederlander, analist eventjes een tweet de wereld in die vader Courtois boos maakte.  Die emoties, die gevoelens die zich dan plots meester maken van ons probeer die maar eens op een correcte wijze te laten spreken zonder in een bepaalde stijl te vervallen.   Dus wat vragen onze protagonisten in onze voetbal-familie nu om geen parade te organiseren, om geen toeters en bellen mee naar de Grote Markt te brengen, om niet naar Zaventem af te zakken met een driekleur, om niet vlagjes te tekenen op onze wangen en naast de weg te gaan staan roepen, om niet een keer onze handen in de lucht te gooien voor een onze ploeg,....  En waarom?

Geen idee. De logica is zoek en ook dat vind ik momenteel niet vreemd. Waarom? Omdat we, ik herhaal het nog een keer, het nooit onder de knie zullen krijgen. Wij Belgen (en excuseer me nu even maar de nuchtere Vlamingen (waarvan ik een van ben) zijn vooral daar wereldkampioen in) hebben altijd het gevoel dat het niet gepast is om ergens mee uit te pakken als het eindresultaat wat minder is.  Daar is niks mis mee en het maakt ons tot wat we zijn.  De vraag is alleen mag je als fan dan op zulke momenten jouw ploeg niet eens een hart onder de riem steken? Mag je dan niet eens voor een keer naast een nuchtere analist (want die zullen er morgen ook nog gaan zijn ook als Vince The Prince&co al lang onder de grasmat begraven liggen) gaan staan en gewoon fan zijn?

Moeten we allemaal dan plotseling stuk voor stuk ons vingertje omhoog steken?  Neen, bedankt!  Ik zie, hoor en lees dag in dag uit de 'wijze' woorden van azijnpissers in actie die er stuk voor stuk voor zorgen dat ik met beide voeten op de grond blijf.  Hun opbouwende kritiek die neem ik ook iedere dag mee terug naar huis in mijn boterhammendoos. Stof genoeg om over na te denken en een zoveelste reset door te voeren.  Allemaal gratis en voor niets.  Ik ben er mee grootgebracht en ik zal er ook mee sterven en ik heb het mijn zoon alvast meegegeven met de paplepel.

Maar dit alles maakt het des te moeilijker om nu aan dat zelfde kind uit te leggen waarom onze Rode Duivels geen optocht wensen en geen feestje willen bouwen.  Daarbij komt ook nog eens dat de KBVB misschien een klein detail uit het oog verloren was toen ze die open brief de digitale wereld instuurde en dat was dat er momenteel in het koninklijk paleis ook 'kleine' fans zijn. Hoe ga je een kind uitleggen dat die konings-kinderen wel hun team mogen de hand schudden en hun mentaal een schouderklopje geven en zij niet de kans krijgen om hun mondiale voetballers nog een keer te mogen toe roepen?  Rijmt niet in een kinderhoofdje en ook niet meer in dat van mij.  Want je gaat me nu niet wijsmaken dat de zonen en dochters van ons vorstenpaar ergens in een het paleis achter slot en grendel zaten terwijl die gasten stonden te poseren op het koninklijk gazon.

Fan zijn vergt dan ook oefening en doorzettingsvermogen.  Je moet een stukje van jezelf bloot geven en je kwetsbaar durven op te stellen.   Het lijkt zo eenvoudig om een favoriet aan te moedigen, je longen uit je lijf te roepen, een duik met je kleren nog aan in het zwembad te nemen na het winnende doelpunt,  je kinderen Panini stickers te kopen om hun album vol te krijgen , je auto te pimpen met een een duivels hoesje, een bak bier met de buren te ledigen terwijl je naar Vincent en co kijkt, een GAS-boete riskeert om al toeterend door je straat of stad te racen,  je gaat verdiepen in voetbal gerelateerde woordenschat om mee te kunnen praten met je schoonvader die voetbalgek is, je een postkaartje van de Bpost naar Brazilië stuurt voor je favoriete Duivel, het aantal sixpacks telt die na een wedstrijd plotseling van onder een strak en bezweet shirtje tevoorschijn komen of een shirt met het nummer 12 draagt omdat je er bij wilt horen bij die horde van mensen die fan zijn van een bende gasten die achter een bal aan hollen of hun leven er vanaf hangt.  Maar het is meer dan dit en wie echt van fan is van iets of iemand weet wat ik wil zeggen....  Echte fans weten wat ik bedoel. Analisten zijn dan ook geen fans. Dat is hun beroep niet.  En maar goed ook!!!  

Gisteren reed ik naar huis. Gisteren hingen de vlaggen er nog steeds en niet aan een of twee gevels. Gisteren overviel me een gevoel dat ik al jaren niet meer gevoeld heb. Het gevoel dat ik niet meer alleen fan ben als het minder gaat.  Gisteren waaide menig vlag met misschien minder panache maar zeker niet met minder respect. Gisteren haalde ik opgelucht adem dat we nog fan zijn ook als menig analist zijn gal heeft mogen spugen.  En mijn moeder die liet gisteren heel duidelijk merken dat ze Lionel Messi geen goede voetballer vindt in zijn totaliteit. Mijn zus die droeg dan weer een oranje jeans.  Zalig moment! Neen, ik blijf fan en ik wil dit nog een heel lang leven doen zonder dat ik me precies moet verantwoorden. Mag dat? 

Smart Teachers?

I have a few routines that I love on a Saturday and one of them is drinking a cup of George Clooney coffee and diving into the weekend press. I love it to just for once not having to closely watch the time and first check if my lesson plan is printed out and all my materials are ready for the next fun learning challenge I have got in store for my lovely students. Saturday is the day that I can put on denim and that the 100% cotton Petit Bateau underwear and a warm croissant of the local bakery are all pure weekend bliss.  It is then that I am in weekend mode and can take deep breaths and empty my brain and catch up with the outside current affairs. Stallie then eargerly digest most of newspaper articels and loves to find out what others think about what is going on in the world.

So when I today was about to embark on that routine I did hear over the news that one of our former university rectors thinks that the teachers of our national are in general not highly intelligent and not equipped to future challenges. In that same interview he is quoted that he urgently calls for a educational reform.  On top of that he points out that the profession lacks a certain appeal/respect and he also says this in that same interview:In mijn jeugd was de schoolmeester een respectabel beroep van een zeer hoog intellectueel niveau. In sommige landen is dat nog altijd zo. In Finland hebben ze een toelatingsexamen aan de universiteit om leraar te mogen worden, en bovendien zijn alle leerkrachten er universitairen.'

Uhm, now first of all nothing in that interview is new. Nothing the very intelligent professor at rest André Oosterlinck says in that piece has not been said before. I can even tell you that I more then once have been called 'just a teacher' and I even have parents who question their children's career choice if they choose for teacher. My own father did.  I will never forget the day that I left for college to kick of my teacher training.  It did seem like I was already a dissapointment. Fortunately he did change his mind about that but I am quite sure that the teaching profession lacks some sex appeal.

I do agree that new teachers need more training and that their present studies do not cover enough what matters in order to survive the educational jungle. Theory and practice are still not in balance when teachers in Belgium are trained. Plus becoming a teacher takes time, effort and also patience. It is not because you have got the degree that it will guarantee you a carefree teaching career. In the 21st century so many things change and this with the blink of an eye.  At the time I decided to hang out one more year extra on the campus of my teaching college in order to specialize in special needs and it was only in that year I found out if I was fit enough to enter a classroom and suddenly realised that it takes so much more.  Yes, I did then over and over point out that a four year teaching training is perhaps a better way to train a teacher. In that one extra year I was granted the space and time to feel at ease and secure in a classroom. It was in that extra year that I turned into a 'up for battle' teacher.


But do I find respect? Do I consider myself intelligent enough? Do people look down on me? Do some people make comments about my profession? Do I sometimes feel like I have to defend myself when people talk about lazzy and dumb teachers? Do I have to point out that those vacations are a nice extra and did influence my choice at the time? Do I wonder if being a teacher in the past was so much eassier? Do I experience days that I feel like I am rather on a island instead part of a close knit  team?  Do I sometimes not feel always that fully equiped and prepared to face the next change that I am about to deal with in my class room?   Do I wonder what it must feel like to be a teacher in the Japan, the USA, Finland, Congo or in the Netherlands? Do I agree with most of what the minister of education says in the press about his educaitonal future plans?  Do I long back for the days that André Oosterlinck describes in his interview? 

Well,most of the above questions I can answer with:'Yes,I do.' But I am also willingly to say that I don't think it is fair to talk in such a manner  about my profession. Believe me there are many teachers out there who try to make the difference There a so many people out there in who in their classroom try to give each pupils and student excellent education.  Plenty of teachers are willingly to embrace change and try out new things.  I have seen so many things around me that tell me that there are enough teachers who are ready to give day in day out there very best.   And I am not just talking about the people who I work at my educational hot spot. No, I have seen so many excellent examples of good practice.

It does make my blood boil if I read such news articles because I take my profession very serious.  When I was at university I wanted in the first place use my knowledge inside of a classroom but I was one of the few in that lecture hall. Most of my fellow students had totaly different plans with their university studies.  I am not sure what it takes to make teaching a more appealing profession. Let us be honest it are not just teachers who are not that much regarded with respect. Yes, it is true that more and more teachers seem to think that teaching is not that their core business and that the red tape linked to it makes them rather feeling like a desk manager.  So it will not be that easy at all to just reform the teaching training .

The suggestions made By some specialist is first of all to get only the people who in the first place choose for education and also make them all trained specialist who spend at least 4 years in a learning and study environment. I am do agree that it was only in my fourth year of studies what I sometimes call my 'test phase-'year that I felt more confident to enter a classroom.  So yes, it would make sense to train future teachers longer but please do not do this in a confined & artificial spot. And yes, I have met some very courageous people who suddenly changed their mind in the 'private' professional world to become teachers. Brave people who did not go over just one night of thin ice.  The knowledge they drag into a room full of future world citizens full with future dreams is essential as well. But they also need time to adopt and they then find out that teaching takes so much more then putting together a animated power point presentation.

Nope, I don't have the answers when it comes down to reforming the educational professional world. I just know that it takes a lot more then just to make the training phase a bit longer.  It will take so much more and it will take more then just group together the students with the highest IQ who are willingly to transfer their knowledge into the brains of children.   Let us be honest we all have been students, we all have come across great teachers and less great educational talents...  Future teachers will have to face students,management, parents,society, a world that just has got very high expectations of them... but that is in every single profession/job the case.

But it would be nice if a 16 year old will be a more encouraged to take teaching as a serious career option.... and that is when many of us can play a very important part. A career path is a road that many young people embark on with very high expectations and it is the more experienced people (and that is Let us first of all stop using less respectful language about any profession and it would be nice that journalists also think twice to put a more profound heading above a newsarticle. And any newsitem deserves a well thaught of headline.

PS: In case you wonder if you are 'smart' enough to be a teacher and you speak Dutch then try to answer the following 92 questions that in 2012 about 1000 student teachers were asked to answers. I know my score and no I am not going to share that one out here.  But it was enough to make me smile... A smile comparable to the one I see on a student when I hand them back a high grade.
http://www.knack.be/nieuws/bent-u-slimmer-dan-een-leerkracht-doe-de-test/article-normal-104419.html

Dancing No Matter What....

It is April and April fools day has just chased by and I got out of unharmed besides a few stickers that were attached by a some very eager students who wanted to show me that they did dare to challenge me.  Yes, they got a few laughs out of me...

I have not been around in this space for quite some time. Was this intend or rather coincendence? Well, honestly I can not tell... The car accident did trigger something strong in my mind and on top of that did my 40th birthday also seem to be the beginning of a very excicted but at times also hectic 41st year.  The world has been treating my kind for the last few months and even tough that I do seem to be cursed car wise because last week my new car (and it is one of my dream cars that I drive now) got kissed by a Merc. It was not a happy encounter but fortunately I was on my way to the that one person who seems to calm me down by the power of his hands. 

Still, today I did reflect about something that I hardly have not mentioned again and that is if I miss my old job and if I am content with what I have got instead what I am longing for. Yes, the wish list or the bucket list is still around in my mind.... But some things did change in my life for the better.  That I two years ago did send in my CV in the hope to find a new educational challenge was for me a very crucial moment in my life... It was almost like now or never...

The now is still the now and I have to be honest that I do have days that I do long back to that one special spot where I took my educational baby steps and where I did learn so much from others. Yes, there are days that I am quite curious to know how everybody is holding up the fortress while I am running across the campus of my new educational hot spot.  Sometimes voices of my former co-workers echo in my mind while I trying to come up with a new lesson plan or sometimes I even try to imagine what one of them would have said or done if they would be in my situation.  They are still in my mind and mentally they even walk along with me when I face certain challenges.

The thing is that the last year and a half my life has changed in a very profound way. What I have found out about myself has made a bit different to the teacher that I used to be but perhaps other around me already did know this about me. More then once people did tell me something about me that did take me by surprise. A few weeks ago a very good and someone who also knew me when I was a high school student myself and not passing all the test and exams I took in my life used that one word that defines me in a very profound way but also makes me feel so fragile at times. 'C, we are talking here about passion... what you have for your profession is passion...' and she looked at me with her typical face and her sincere smile.

Passion, that is now one of these words that I love in many ways because yes, I do try to bring it out in whatever I do. Not that it always works but at least I try.... Not that the world I face on a daily basis always agrees with me. Yes, I am fully aware that there are certain forces at work out there that are rather hard to battle and that I am only a tiny spot on this globe.  But hey, I have made a few pledges to myself and to some people that care about and even love no matter what. Plus there is something else that for the moment keeps me up on my toes and very busy.  I still believe strongly in the instinct that life will give me in return what ever I invested in it.

So far 2014 has been for me a very emotional rollercoaster one with some unforgettable ups but also rather painful and harsh downs.  Stallie still is fully aware that her dark side can pop up at any second and GERD has still it is sour way to communicate what she thinks about my well being. But my nails, ladies and gentlemen, my nails those seem to be hanging in there. Yes, I am winning the fight with my urge to bite into them when I feel like I am about to hit a wall or when I seem to be running out of juice. One look at that result (and the finishing touch of a beautician who is very strict with me) that I managed and the patience I already had put into those nails kept me back of doing what I normaly would do...

But somethings were a bit more challenging and I am not just talking about turning 40 and facing that fact that I am mortal and that from now on some things will go down hill. Not that seems to be the easy part. It is more trying to stay in balance with myself, my job, my family, my social life (including my social media or dare to call it virtual life) and some things that I care about.... One of them is dancing and that is not that easy.  Stallie needed to find back why she in the world ever decided to go back to that ballet studio where she would be every week challenged by her ballet teacher but also by her mental state and her motor skills.

Out there in front of a mirror while my feet tried to make coordinated movements with my arms, knees I did seem to face my biggest challenge.  Tuesdays are a killer when it comes down to work, photocopying, running, breathing, teaching, smiling my way through lesssons with less willingly individuals who suddenly disagree with learing a new language or keep up my respectful posture when one of students thinks he/she can tackle a literature course without keeping up his/her reading. Tuesday is my ultimate rat race and then I try to beat time in order to make it to Leuven and jump into my black leotard and slip into my ballet shoes.  The moment that I drag myself into that room full of mirrors I feel like a zombie who would rather crash into couch and hide under a duvet. Getting the picture here...

This year my ballet teacher challenged me and he was after perfection.  In a few weeks I need to pull out every single move I have in my body and move synchronized on a stage.  He is after fairies and he does hope  that we can show grace, elegance, style and be smooth.... This talented ballet dancer/chorographer has got a great vision that he tries to come alive on stage.  Well, Stallie did screw up big time the last few months. Right and left constantly got messed up in my mind.  Stretching my toes and my turn outs were nowhere to be noticed. Even classmates suddenly noticed that I not always easily react to change.  Well, ladies and gentlemen, one look at Stallie out there and you would see that she is going in overdrive...

Yes, I almost wanted to give into that one force that I has pushed me out of the ballet world. The one force that then will then take possesion of me. The thing is that this lady wants to dance and not just dance one hour a week.  I now even will start to make dance movements while I am out on the street.  Yes, life should come with background music!  So it is not that I don't want to dance anymore but it did seem that my body and my mind were after a dance-break.

Well, my ballet teacher did not grand me that break. His face said it all when I told him that I just had other things on my mind instead of dancing... Instead he tried to point out something to me that I was trying to ignore. Something that I deep down know he is so right about. Something that dancers are fully aware. Something that makes you long for the next dance step even if it hurts. Pain and dancing not always seem to fit in my mind but perhaps I always did up till now picked the eassier way out of the ballet studio when change was around the bend. I had done it before and I knew exactly what it would cause me. Honestly I have not intentions to go back to that place because dancing there has got no air time....

His words and body language I did copy clearly. And when I that night walked out of the ballet school there were certain words that still echoeing in my mind.  Pain on stage I have never ever experienced it. I am not talking about the physical pain here because I even encounter that when I am just tackling a routine lesson.  The dance instructor was aiming at a different kind of pain one that I hardly ever given a spot in my dancing world.  Why? Because I just couldn't imagine them both cooperating and coexisting.  So the week after I stood there and my mind was in overdrive and my body did seem to have a harder time finding it's balance and I just ruined most of my piques.  Half of time I did seem to run of breath or was a count too slow. But I have not given in and thank the lord this  last week it did all look it a bit more decent.  Did I again feel more at ease and did I feel more like a dancer...

Next week I need to be ready mentally to get on stage and not feeling that 100% at ease but being able to push out for about 3 minutes all my balast and just dance. It might hurt and it might not feel that natural but I already have experienced in the last few weeks that what my ballet teacher is after does make sense. It is not even rocket science but I guess that it took a 5 minute speech of a dancer who has gone through a lot more then I ever did but hey, I have got a job, a family, my mental health, a laundry basket that resembles the Himalaya, a never ending to do-list and I have to be honest dancing was not a priority on there the last few months.

So I had to get back in there and tyring to refocus on what matters inside the walls of a ballet studio. And believe most of the tings that I have mentioned here above don't. There is no space for those. But there is so much that is allowed in.  That it took me a strict ballet teacher to point it out to me. Because I had for few minutes forgotten all about that one particular saying that does matter in the world of dancing and even in general:'Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass... It's learning to dance in the rain.'

A big thank you to my ballet teacher B who managed to keep me in check!!!!  Sorry that I lost that dancing feeling/loving feeling for a minute or two...

Crash Bang Boom!!!!!!

January it is and so this means a new beginnings. Not just the start of a new year and 365 days that are still blanco. Time will tell what they have got in store for us.  In a way I do like the unknown. People try to make predictions and we even have got specialists that try to foretell the future. Sometimes they are right sometimes they are wrong. We will see in 12 months time if 2014 is the year that you and I are after.

Me, myself and I already have been quite busy with making the most of 2014.  We are just going to skip the job part because that this is a very hectic and busy time that  I call rather normal. I would even dare to say that I do like it in a way to be in such state.  Work is for me sometimes my safety blanket. It is the one spot where life still seems to make sense. Where I find that one thing that I am so desperate after and where smiles are hiding out.   On that part I still love where I am hanging out between office hours and beyond. Sometimes I might lose it but at the end of the week I still seem to be in one piece.

What was so much harder to deal with had to do with my car.  My beloved car... my first car that P got me in order to get A and myself from A to B and beyond. To go out with on adventures and get lost in.  I will never forget how reluctant I was to get my driving permit. Some of you know what Stallie did think about driving. For years I did try to stay away from driving because I could get anywhere on foot, by public transportation or find an other victim to drive me to my final distanations.  It was P who talked me into a car and okay it was rather hard work. Time (we ended up spending quite some hours on empty supermarket parking lots), patience (yes, we did yell at each other because in my messed up brain I just did not manage to think like a car) and money (thanks to P I did not ended up spending all of my pay check on driving lessons) went in to that mission impossible.

Yes, I did find out that driving can be so much more fun than having to wait in the cold for a train that has decided not arrive or that it is so much eassier to drive to your mother instead of having to rely on time tables of public transport. Before I knew I loved that car of mine above my public transport.  And I was very proud of myself never to have gotten into any accidents.  So for 10 years my Opel/Vauxhall Corsa and I had been close friends.  Every time when I went for my annual car check up I did hold my breath. But that tiny car just seemed to keep on going forever. 

Till last week.... last week I found out that timing is everything. Last week someone else decided that it was the chosen moment to end of the partnership. Last Sunday I had my first car accident. No, it wasn't a spectacular crash and I am still in one piece.  My back hurts (and it might have some less fun consequences but that it totally different story) but besides shaky nerves I was fine. Still the impact that it had on my daily life was beyond any expectation.

Okay, in a way these were luxury problems and let us be honest that it would not have killed me to jump back on a buss (I did and I can tell you that on a Monday morning around 7.30 I was the oldest person on it) and relying on time tables.  I even imagined having some more time to read and contemplate about life instead of having to stress about traffic lights, road works and trafic jams. I did try to think positive about it.   I just not imagined that once when you rely so much on a car that when you suddenly do not have one your life gets 'messed up' or should we say 'more complicated'.

Now what you need to know is that the day before this happened P, A&I had been out for a test drive. Because in the back of our minds we knew that the days of the Corsa were numbered. The car was getting older.   I can tell you that we  had fun trying out a new car. Suddenly I was picturing me in something new, more glamorous, shinier, faster and stylisher.  Oh yes, I do have a list of favorite cars that I would love the drive. But two of them sadly have the reputation to be designed for the Mediterian weather.  So in a way I was ready to say farewell to my faithful car and start fresh with a new one.  I just had a different scenario in mind than the one we went through last week.
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Once more I found out that Stallie is not good at dealing with unexpected events. Big fail!!! I did even fail on the alcohol test the police did perform after the accident. I just did not manage to get the right amount of air into that machine.  It did seem that I already ran out of breath at that moment. Like I knew that I was going to have to run a marathon but was never making it to the finish line. P was once more the very practical thinker when he did ask me first of all:'How are you getting to work now.'instead of asking me:'Are you okay?' He did explain to me that I did look so calm in that police car that he had already figured out that I was okay. WRONG THINKING PATTERN!!!  My mind was racing and I was crashing over and over again in my mind. By Sunday night my body and head were aching all over. I had not managed to get done anything. I was so dissorientated.

By Monday morning I was lethal to be around with.  I hated calling my mother because she would ask me if I had paid attention to detail. 'No, mum I have not mentioned that I had a pianful back because after all that is something chronic...'& 'No mum, I have not seen a GP yet because I do not easily ask for leave of absence if you can take care of this outside office hours.'  My sister then was not happy to  find out days after that I had lost my car. 'Hey, you could have called.' Me thinking:'Why? To tell you I am still alive but I lost my car.'

Yes, I called friends but I sometimes felt to stupid that I did seem to be rather unhappy about the whole situation. It is like you start to hate yourself. That you wish you could switch yourself of for a few minutes and just stay positive about the whole situation. I just failed. It did not help to read news headlines about the war in Syria or a story about a person with a terminal illness. That way of thinking did not seem to help me out to start to look back that bright side.  I then tried even drinking a Cuba Libre on a week day. Believe me I am one of these people who stays away of alchohol on weekdays.  Did not have the effect I was after. Constantly I was pushing out the bad vibrations but they always found their way back in.

You see, it was for me constantly a dillemma who to call and tell them that I felt so down about the situation. That I might now even have to consider not dancing for a while does make it even more painful.  People who do know me quite well, do know how essential ballet dancing is for Stallie.  It is part of trying to stay in a healthy and happy mental state.

I wish that I had been a bit more positive in such a situation but I just did not know what to behave like.  It was the first time that someone crashed in to my car sideways. That I ended making eyecontact with the person who was about to mess up my car.  Oh believe me I tried to find a way out but there was no way.  I had no other choice to just let it happen. I did let it go and I just pushed my break down and then I did hear sounds that were so painful to my ears. Metal that was crashing into eachother.

Oh yes, I did have even the 'Sliding Doors' scenario running through my mind while I sat there in the police car filling out insurance paperwork. These were the thaughts that ran through my mind just after the crash:'If I had left the house one second sooner or later this would not have happened. But I did and this is the sh** I have to deal with now.  But hey, I am still breathing and I can get out of the harmed car on my own without having to call in some extra troops. So I am fine, am I not?' Believe me, that minute after the accident that was exactly what I did think. But before I knew the blue sky vanished and did some thunder storms appear.

Okay, I had been hit by car a few year ago but that was completely different to what had happened now. I do remember calling people as well at that crucial moment and did remember how much it changed my life. It was the day that I ended up in soup bar in rainy Paris and did take a very close look at what I had, what I was longing for and what posibilities&opportunites there were still out there. I am likely to state that it was a turning point in my mental state.

What I was unprepared for was that it would happen again.  I once more was forced to sit down, take deep breaths, trying to calm down and find back my focul point and try to stay positive. Having faith that everything would work out in the end.  I needed other people to tell me that this was going to be the case. Because I had ran out of juice.  So sorry if you turned out to be one of these people who had to put up with me this week. You do deserve better and I am fully aware of the fact that some of you have so much more to deal with then a totat loss declared car.

The thing is that I might have forgotten to keep up something that might have made things a bit eassier on all of you and me.  What that is, is something that I have kind of neglected for a while because I just seem to be doing fine without it. Oh boy, was I wrong.  When will I learn that it is part of me and that it is part of keeping myself in check and under control? Seems to take a car crash!

I now can announce that a new car has been picked out (and it one of my wish list!) and that things have calmed down. Stallie also waved her faithful Corsa goodbye (including her ace Jane Austen bumper sticker but these you can order again!) and made appointments in order to get back on track.  Now I can't wait to get my hands on the new car key.  Stallie is ready for new car adventures.  So as it seem new beginnings are not always cool runnings (I have just read somewhere that the Bob sleigh team of Jamiaca has qualified for the Olympics! :-) ) but I already found out how unpredictable and yes exciting (that is once the dust has settled) ) 2014 is. 

PS: The thing that I did kind of neglect the last few months did someone else very nicely explain and it also explains why you end up neglecting it. But it is so easy once you get the hang of it and when you do focus on what you get in return even when it will hurt once in a while. No pain, no gain is even a fact in the mental world if you want to stay fit, healthy and focused.

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The Forbidden Apple

Today South Africa pays it final respects to its most inspiring world leader. Last week the world alraedy had the opportunity to wave Nelson Mandela farewell. Not that I had time to watch the ceremony because after all life goes on. I had to settle for the news reports and some pictures to catch a glimpse of the whole affaire.  Appearantly did almost every single person of importance wanted to be present.  Yes, I did end up smiling at the selfie-story of Obama and the sign language intrepetor who seemed to have a bad day at the office at that exact moment.

Some newspaper articles described the whole affaire as being rather festive like and not  sad at all.  Awkward mourning moments I dare to call it.  But then we all mourn in different ways and having to pay last respects to  a person like Nelson Mandela is not an everyday situation.

Am I in mourning? Is my life different since Mandela his last breath? Hmm... not really?  But there was one question that did cross my mind this week while I got to watch a programme about the life of this inspirational person: in what way have I already tried to cary out his message?  Well, believe it or not I do remember quite well the time that Nelson was spending time on Robbeneiland and that Margaret Thatcher tried to justify the South African policies in some of her interviews.

And you know why? Well, because of an piece of fruit.... a round piece of fruit... a very nice looking  apple.... a shiny green apple...  I even dare to call it the most perfect looking apple.  I will never forget the times my mum would take me along grocery shopping and that I came across this unique edible sales item.  It stood out amongst all the other pieces of fruit. It was like this piece fruit had magnetic powers and that I suddenly forgot all about the bananas, the kiwis, figs and pineapples. There it was... that one round object that I wanted to plant my teeth in. My mouth filled up with water when my eye sight picked it up. There was only one right word to describe this apple:IRRESISTIBLE!

I forget not only other members of the world of fruits but even my urge for crisps or candy suddenly had went up in smoke. I stood there in the middle of the fuit and vegetable department of the grocery store and all I wanted was to get my hands on that one shiny object.  But unfortunately that was a mission impossible because I was forbidden to have that one piece of fruit.  Why?

Fruit connaisseurs might already have figured it out. I was in extasy because of a Granny Smith apple. My hands were itching and I had to keep reminding myself constantly that this apple was out of reach.  'So you want apples?', my mum would then ask me and her voice would make me land back on earth. 'Yes!', and I pointed it at that particular apple. Her face then told me that once more I would have to settle for the less shiny and perfect shaped kind. 'NO!!! Not that one! You know that I am not buying that one.'

Of course I knew but then I wondered how long it would take till my mother would give in.  Well, I found out that my mother was a very tough woman to deal with when it came down to apples. I can not even remember that she ever bought me one of those apples.... Now you might wonder how Nelson Mandela, South Africa and a Granny Smith apple are linked?  Well, the issue my mother had with that apple was the blue/white sticker that was attached to it.  On that sticker there were four letters 'CAPE'. 

Yes, I knew why we were not suppose to be bying that one apple. It was from South Africa and there was somthing 'wrong' about that country. Not that I fully understood what was going on down there. After all I guess that I was too young to understand all the facts about 'apartheid'. After all I did seem to have the impression that my father loved that nation. He even had some books in his office that dealt with 'Afrikaans'.  This all made a bit more confusing.  So in a way that apple stood for everything that was going wrong in that one nation and my mother was going to make sure that her loved one were going to resist the calling of the Cape Granny Smith as long as nothing was going to change down there.

That I had to wait a very long time to fully enjoy one of these apples everybody could have predicted. After all Nelson Mandela was charged with a life sentence. The world famous inmate with the number 46664 wasn't going to come out by the next harvest of Granny Smiths. Why? Well,my parents tried to explain to my sibblings and me what was going on down there in Africa. But let us be honest that is very hard to get your head around. But the apple boycot in our house did stand the test of time....

When Mandela regained his freedom I did plant my teeth into one of these Granny Smith.
The thing was that I less and less longed for it and that even today I am not that much tempted to buy them.  Cape fruit had been the enemy for such a long time and now that my mum wanted to buy them again I did not nag for them anymore! 

Mission accomplished? Did resisting Cape Granny Smith apples help to liberate Mandela or at least help to point out to South Africa that something had to change? Well, my mum seemed to think so. My dad even started to buy South African 'vonkelwijn' instead of the French equivalent.

So South Africa did enter my life by means of an apple....  What happened after the apple boycott I found out in history lessons and on the news and even by first hand letters from a friend who was studying in South Africa in 1993-1994.  I can tell you that these postcards and letters are for me the proof that the transition time in South Africa was a very exciting time but also a time filled up anxiety. 

Now, don't worry I am not going to start of now by repeating what already so many have said over and over again about Mandela. There is no need for it because his heritage is beyond any words.  It will take a bit more then boycotting an apple to keep it alive and kicking.  Because let us face it that it won't be easy to follow in the footsteps of such an inspiring human being.

So when I last Friday got the opportunity to sign a commeration book I did take the time to sit down and think about something fitting to write down. But what if the person who you write this message for already created such inspiring words that can stand the test of time?  Well, then I decided to write one quote that I take to heart and strongly believe in.

Mandela is no more amongst the living but he for sure has left enough food for thought to keep me busy for the rest of my life.  After all the temptation of the green and shiny apple is so much eassier to resist then the inspiring words of Madiba.  Me being a teacher qualified me for a fight of life time according to him. Still, it is the future that will tell if we can keep alive what he stood for. It will be very hard to  ’Xhosa Lizali’sidinga lakho'. But then Nelson Mandela once said by his retirement from public life with his hallmark smile:'Don't call me! I will call you!'

The quote I choose to write in the commeration book:

'Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.' Nelson Mandela (1918-2013)

PS: I wish to thank my mother with this entry because it was thanks to her that I for the very first time in my life realised that small actions can make a difference. 

In the Teachers Lounge

"Looking to the future when this account may be read I can see there will be many advances and scientific discoveries that are uninmaginable at the present moment. However, the universe is so incredibly immense and human destiny so fleeting I can still see that you will be confronted by the same challenges as we are today. The desire for the good, the quest for human happiness will not be significantly different and putting one's mind to one's life will still serve a useful purpose. Common sense and self knowledge will still have currency and as you seek happiness the words of Shakespeare are worth bearing in mind:"There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so." 

"The G motto is "prêt pour mon pays," and some of you may wonder what your country is. You should have less doubt about your family and not be caught in a linguistic quandary if your roots are mixed and your existence has been peripatetic. Your human destiny will have made some demands that it has made on your forefathers even if the circumstances are vastly different. Do not be of faint heart and whenever possible, do not brood on the past or dream idly of the future but keep your eye on the present - "Carpe Diem."

These wise word I read today on the message board in the teachers lounge. They were printed on a 'In Memoriam' card of a person that is very much missed by many at my workspot. These words were also created by this person and I have to say that they got under my skin.  I have to be honest with you  I never had the opportunity to meet this person. I have not a single clue what he/she was like before I read these words. It is like reading this suddenly has given me an insight into the brain of a person that has made an imense imprint on the heart of many people I work with.  It was while I was standing there that I suddenly wished I had known this person.  His/her legacy seems to be still at work in my school. 

I can't realy offer much comfort to the people who now miss this very special person who seems to have loved passionately languages and life.  But what I can do is trying to keep his/her wise words close to my heart. Because sooner of later I will come across this person while working with the people who worked with him/her. People I can already call colleagues and are very driven at what they do and what they believe in.  Some of these people always considered him/her their mentor.  For the people out there who have ever had a mentor or a person they looked up at I am sure you do get me...

That I have not never met this exceptional and inspirational person I do regret but I am very sure that what he/she left behind at my work spot is still alive and kicking.  He/she will be missed and I have seen very sincere emotions in the face of many people that I do feel also responsible to give my very best as a language teacher and trying to be a happy person and never hide from any challenge that I will encounter while working there or anywhere else.

Besides, words do matter, they can echo beyond a life time!!!  

PS.: I have choses a rather sad but also romantic song to go along with this entry.  The images are quite lounge like I do think. Laura Pausini her voice is after 20 years still able to touch my heart. I do prefer her in Italian but still....

Teaching Life Long Learners

'Everybody says that about me.'
It might be a sentence that does not to seem to have enough content to write an essay about. Something that I am for the moment trying to teach some of my students. Students who are trying to figure out in what direction they want to their life heading for & this the coming 4 or even more years. Very inspiring bunch.  And let this one short sentence now be one of these sentences that sometimes teenagers need to deal with when they try to make up their minds about their future.

In this case I was facing a student during a class of mine and he/she seemed rather lost. Not that he/she wasn't trying to come to terms with the situation. Many signals that I had picked up the last few weeks told me that many of them were busy with browsing through glossy university brochures, coming up with great sentences for their applications, visiting campuses to find out if the sight lived up to their expectation, planning and then hoping that what they wish for also becomes reality.  Oxbridge, Ivy League or just the university around the corner.  It is at that age you have so many options to choose from.  Plus keeping your grades up and handing assignments and tasks in time. Busy times and for many it is an exciting but also a stressful time.

And to make things even more interesting does this student constantly hear that he/she would be a good teacher..... It was a very confronting moment because just a few hours before this took place a co-worker had said as well  that one sentence that everybody seem to be telling about him/her.  My reply was a bit cliché:'Well, what is your opinion about that everybody seems to have this opinion about you?'  The student stayed silent and his/her look told me that he/she was not going to give us an answer.  This was one of those moments that being Edward Cullen would have come in handy.

The thing is that I have seen this student in action with primary students and yes he/she is for sure a fitting canditate for teaching.  Yes, I was tempted to say the same about him/her but I was holding back. Why? Well, that is a bit complicated.   I was still digesting the newsreports covering the teacher's training in my nation. And nope, it was not all milk and honey what I came across. The numbers were very striking.  Overall, most of the students that pursue are students that have a not all a very academic background.  What I do not consider even that big of an issue.  What was more alarming is that a certain big number of people who do teach teachers to be have never been teachers! 

Not that there have not made any attempts but I have to say that what I did end up reading on the front page of my newspapers were very confronting.   Yes, I take news reports sometimes rather  personal. But hey, I am teacher and once I was a student teacher and once I was a student who had to make up her mind what she wanted to be once she had her secondary diploma in her hands.

So how I did get from 'I don't know what to be' to 'I have figured it out'?  Well, I knew already quite that I wanted to do something with children. My first idea was nursing or nanny. The idea of taking care of others their children seemed very appealing to me. But I had no real plan or preference. Others around me were dreaming of becoming an engineer, doctor, vet, physiotherapist, nurse, actor, journalist,....  In a way I did envy these people because they did seem to know what they were after. I was lost and nope to be honest many of the teachers (and I had some amazing secondary teachers who are still an inspiration) seem not to be very straight forward with me when it came down to study advice.

Oh, I did some of these cliché placement tests and the outcome of them was also not that clear.  The 'it is only a test' & 'it is only advice'-attitude was for me the best way to deal with them. In the end I was going to be architect of my own future. Picking out my profession was my first adult decision I got make and I wasn't going to do this overnight.  So I took my time and when I finally signed up for classes after a rather big detour I was still not sure that it was the right choice. And then I found out what becoming a teacher did really involve... Nobody seem to have told me.... What a surprise?

Nope, becoming a teacher wasn't a walk through the park.  Teaching college was hard work and it was sometimes like hitting a wall. There is nothing fun of having to face a lesson plan that is soaked in red ink. The advice that many of my professors gave me did not always sound straight forward.  There were days that the best thing was pasta bolognaise with grilled cheese and tabasco or a movie ticket.  And I still remember very vividly the days that I got out of classroom sweating and trembling because I did not feel confident or satisfied.  The feedback sheets I sometimes wanted to put through the shredder. Or there were those exams that  I felt so out of place in the big cruel wold where there did seem to be going on a certain kind of conspiracy. 

It wasn't for sure that they have given me that one boarding pass with a serious discount.  There were days that I could curse some of professors. Literature classes were like a race against ticking time bomb and during history lessons you had to come up with amazing creative ideas to get your lesson approved.  The phonetic course made my head spin, the pedagogical courses did sometimes sound like Chinese&keeping up with the subscription of Time Magazine was also challenging.   The religion courses did sometimes make my brain go in overdrive.  I have analysing parts of that bible while I was thinking what this even had to do with teaching. 

The people who made me do all of these things not all have been secondary teachers. I am very sure that most of them have not spend a very long time in a class filled up with teenagers that are filled up with hormones or that they are fully aware that a lesson plan is not always the guarantee that your lesson will work.  Have I ever questioned my teaching-teachers? Oh yes, I did!  Big time!!  And there even has been a specific moment that my mother had to talk me into car when I was about to give up all together because things did not go according to plan. My plan! I hit rock and bottom during that period in my life.  I had no plan B because I had been so sure when I had signed up for teaching that this was it!  At that moment I was back to square one...

But then nobody had told me what it would be really like and what it would take to make it to the finish line. And even when I made it that it would be only the beginning of something even harder. The real life, the real classroom where every single theory would be tested over and over again.  I found out very fast that I was going to be a life long learner. I had to learn it the hard and sometimes painful way... 

When I did graduate 3 years later I knew for sure that I wanted to be a teacher and I wanted to be a special teacher. I wanted to stand out in what I did and I wanted to make sure that every lesson was special. So I entered the world of special needs. Did hang out one more year at the campus and ended up in a special need classrooms for an unforgettable student teaching period.  It is in that crucial period of my life I sensed something that I never had felt while I was in classes. Something very strong, something that made me believe that I made the right choice.

On top of that I also  found out that teaching is something that is complex, endless challenging, can't be wrapped up in one lesson plan, takes more then a red and green marker and then there comes that moment that a student teacher walks into your classroom....  Suddenly I sat there where I never imagined to be sitting. I can tell you that facing fresh teaching meat is sometimes like being warped back into time.

I am still learning and every day I put myself and my profession at risk... So if you are considering to become a teacher then this means you need to have an open mind and be ready to be constantly under attack. Society does have got high expectation of its human beings and where do these mortal souls learn many of their survival techniques? Oh yes, rightly so to demand qualified teachers in order to 'coach' your human capital.  But it will take more then just introducing six work groups, creating new language tool kits, updating lesson plans, introducing more IT in the classroom, re-evaluating studies that already have been done a million times, visiting Finland and call it the land of milk and honey....

Pupils come in different shapes and forms, they are all 'special', they all need special attention, they all wish for a 'special' teacher.  Let us face it we all wished for that one teacher that managed to ignite something that made learning so much more fun and at the same time made us long for more knowledge.  But learning we do all in a different ways. So this demands many kinds of teachers and I am tempted that I do not believe in screening students to find out if they would make perfect teachers beforehand. It takes more then just that. And we might miss out one a few diamonds in the rough.

This morning while drinking a very lovely cup of George Clooney coffee (Dulsao do Brasil-taste!!!) I read this passage in the newspapers: 'I do know that he is fast, and that he can score, but Romelu still has to take some steps. He doesn't understand yet how he has to use his body, how he has to hold on to a ball- it is not normal that I am the one to tell him these things while Romelu already is an international.' Well, coach Marc Wilmots, perhaps someone else has forgotten to tell him or he might have trouble hearing you? Repetition can never hurt  Or what about the transfer between theory into the real life practice? Long Life Learner, get it coach?

I bet Wilmots does know!  Why? He has been there, played under pressure, sat on the bench, ran after that ball against all odds, kept focused, had his two feet firmly down to the ground to protect himself of disappointment but most of all he believed strongly in learning step by step. He was  called slow, not good enough to play in the offensive, he was this and that....But today he still  strongly believes in something that we all need when we learn and this that we all need to have people standing behind us who have got faith in us and this against all odds.

Because let us be honest a few years ago we did make fun of out national football team. They were never going to learn, never ever get their act together,  never get to play with the big guys, they were David and the rest of the world Golliath. Well, tell that to Malala Yousafzai when she stood up for her right for education? (BTW calling Malala too young to receive a Nobel Prize I did not buy! I wasn't aware that their is an age limit when you try to carry out the message of peace!)  Or tell that to the Nobel Prize winners of this world. Some of them had to wait quite a long time to get the recognition they did deserve. Life Long Learners! 

Is that particular student who enters frequently my classroom fit for such particular combat situation? Is he/she ready for being a life long learner and at the same time trying to teach what he/she thinks need all his/her special pupils. Is he/she up to enter that incredible challenging world of teaching where the world is constantly changing in front of your eyes?  Well, if he/she looked close enough he/she might have already found out..

 PS: I did pick out two clips that are in a way contrasts 'Freedom Writers'& 'Dead Poet Society' because these movies do tell me a lot about how youngsters need to deal with making choices in such an early stage in their lives. Plus that if a teacher stands out that he/she meets up with some people that questions constantly his/her approach.  When is a teacher 'the perfect' teacher? I guess we all teach and learn in different ways. Please tell me now that nobody is perfect... but that we can be all inspiring if we open up and are willingly to learn.  I still haven't stopped!  I am still dreaming along with my pupils and don't plan to stop!