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jenthelibrarian
Nov. 26th, 2009
10:28 pm - In which I get both the heebies and the jeebies
This morning I glanced up at the clock, hoping it was nearly break time.
To my horror on the wall next to the clock sat a huge vast enormous spider. Eeeek.
The library was very quiet but Tom and Matt from the sixth form were round in the comfy chairs in the fiction area. Tom, luckily, was very brave and willing to climb up, armed only with a paper cup and a piece of card, and catch the monster. Matt joined me in a little light panic and disgust. I jiggled about doing a sort of heebie jeebie dance until it was safe to go back to my seat. I made Tom put the spider-defiled cup in the bin.
You can never be too careful when it comes to huge vast enormous spiders.
Nov. 11th, 2009
03:50 pm - Where does custard come from?
"Miss, where does custard come from?"
I smile, assuming this is a joke I'm being asked and hope that the answer/punchline isn't too rude for me to laugh at.
"I don't know, where does custard come from?"
This question turns out to be homework, not a corny joke.
"Do you think your teacher means 'what is custard made of' or 'where does custard originate'?"
The kids shrug, they don't know. And they don't know what 'originate' means, either.
"Well....proper custard is made out of eggs and sugar and milk or cream. Or you can make it out of custard powder. Or buy either sort ready made, can't you?"
I'm thinking out loud here...
"As for where it originally came from, I'm not sure. In French it's Creme anglais so maybe it is really British"
It's the middle of a very busy lunchtime and I have no ideas and no way of abandoning a hectic library to see if I can find the offending teacher.
So, anyone know? Where does custard come from?
Nov. 10th, 2009
04:11 pm - In which I fail to follow proceedures...
Earlier I made the mistake of remarking that it had been a long time since I'd last needed to call for a senior member of staff to deal with a difficult situation for me, but I guess this was tempting fate.
At lunchtime I heard an ominous thudding noise from the computer suite and scurried in there to investigate. A fat ugly kid called Connor was bouncing a tennis ball off the wall, in a style similar to that thing Steve McQueen does in 'The Great Escape'.
I ordered Connor out. He looked at me in wide-eyed disbelief.
"You can't send me out, just like that" he said, confidently.
"Oh, I can, and I am" I said, grimly.
"No, Miss" he continued "You haven't followed proceedure. You have to ask me not to do something, follow it up with a formal warning and then you can only send me out if I do it again"
"Connor, you have to be kidding. You do not bounce tennis balls off the walls in school computer suites, or libraries for that matter, out you go before I put you on report"
I am rapidly losing it, as is Connor who is going dangerously red in his porky fat face.
"You have no right. You didn't follow proceedures" he plonks himself down in the nearest chair and folds his arms.
I take a deep breath
"Connor, I am asking you to leave the library. Now. Are you refusing to obey a reasonable request from a member of staff?"
I can do 'proceedures' too, it seems.
"You have no right. You didn't follow proceedures. You have no right. You didn't follow proceedures. You have no right. You didn't follow proceedures. " chants Connor, infuriatingly.
"Youhavenorightyoudidn'tfollowproceedure
"YOUHAVENORIGHTYOUDIDN'TFOLLOWPROCEEDURE
I summon the Senior who is on lunchtime patrol, who removes Connor, who continues to yell at me even as he is being bundled out of the doors.
As a result I have to fill in an Incident Report Form which causes Connor to win a formal detention as well as a week ban from the library.
The application of our school's formal proceedures suits me fine, thanks.
Oct. 14th, 2009
10:46 pm - It's that mean synthetic woman
Some kid left a sheet of their book review in our printer:
"...she started to be a mean and viscose woman killing her husband..."
Oct. 6th, 2009
03:58 pm - Will the Internet fit on one memory stick?
I bump into Mr Head just outside his office.
"Ooh!" he says "Just the person! Do you guys hold the copies of the School Prospectus and Policy Documents in the library?"
I am really rather flattered to be recognised and spoken to by Mr Head. I am however, slighly embarrassed to have to remind him, as gently and as tactfully as I can, that one of our policies is not to waste paper on printed documents that might go out of date, but to keep them online and accessible via the school website/intranet.
"Could you show me quickly?" he asks, leads me into his office and offers me his super fancy revolving chair in front of his super new PC.
I wonder If Mr Head will remember his passwords and logins for our intranet, so for speed I open IE.
"Have you got the school website bookmarked?"
This baffles him, but I find it and show him how there is a nice button on our homepage called 'Documents' and how, when you mouse over it, a helpful little box pops up telling users 'Click here for the School Prospectus and Policy Documents'.
"Brilliant!" he says, happily. And then, less happily "Oh dear, will I be able to find it all again?"
Boldly I offer to set the school website as his home page so it appears as if by magic. He seems thrilled by this.
He does find a sentence in the Prospectus that isn't to his liking and triumphantly highlights it and attempts to delete it. I have to point out that he needs to be logged in with passwords to do this so we move swiftly on....
Finally he tells me how helpful I've been and that he thinks he will show the school website to visitors and prospective pupils and all sorts of people when he gives talks.
I suggest that he can get the IT techies to set him up with a laptop and a data projector to do just this, but this seems to worry him.
"Can't we just save it to my memory stick thingy?"
I have no idea if he means this home page, the entire school website or indeed the entire Internet.
Later Mrs Brent from the school office comes to find me.
"Mr Head needs you. He's complaining that 'his' Internet only shows the school website and he wants his Google-box back, please"
Oct. 5th, 2009
10:49 pm - Does this mean something? If so, what?
Mike Faraday from the Science department has been appointed our new Head of Sixth Form. He'll take over at half term when the current one finally retires.
I think it's nice to promote an internal candidate but Mike isn't very old or very experienced and is already looking flustered and stressed.
When the interviews for the job were held in the summer term we were very impressed by a candidate from a school in a neighbouring authority. He managed to escape from the official school tour and find himself in the library. He asked us some good questions and asked politely if he might speak to some of the sixth formers who were in with us at the time. He also popped out into the corridor when the bell went to see how the kids behaved between classes. Needless to say he didn't get the job.
I was in a meeting with Mike a couple of days ago, he's pleasant enough, and I did notice that he smells nice, something slightly sharp and citrusy.
The other night I dreamed I was kissing him, and liking it. He does have a sort of thirty-something boyish charm. Now I'm hideously embarrassed when I see him. What was I thinking of?
Sep. 15th, 2009
03:49 pm - Money, money, money
It goes without saying that our book fund is woefully inadequate, and already nearly spent, or allocated.
To buy anything at Black Pit it is necessary to fill in a multi-part order form and submit it via the purchasing lady in the finance office. I am not permitted to order books off Amazon. This is really annoying since my precious funds would go so much further if we could buy expensive text books second hand.
The library's budget is known as a book fund and is supposed to be spent on books. It is grudgingly accepted that we need stationery and we get to long yearningly for new furniture/computers/bits of software. The school Parents' Association has been kind and over the years, but fund-raising gets harder and harder and there are more and more calls on their generosity.
In the library we very rarely charge kids fines for overdue books, preferring merely to get the books back if we possibly can. We send out overdue notices off the library issue system a couple of times a term and, if the missing books are valuable enough, send copies home to parents through the post.
Today I emptied our 'in' tray in the office and there were a couple of hand-addressed envelopes sent directly to 'The Librarian'. To my great surprise and utter joy they contained payment for lost books. In cash! *happy dance!
One envelope contained a twenty-pound note, in payment for a book worth half that, with an apology for the loss of the book and a note telling me they'd enclosed the extra amount as a donation!
The replacement books can be tagged onto our next order. I cannot tell how wonderful it is to have a whole £30.00 by way of library petty cash! Now I can buy a couple of things that the finance officer frowns over if I claim for them - a little bag of potting compost for the library plants! A pack of cheap birthday cards for the kids who help us!
I can also 'borrow' cash for small items of stationery [coloured stickers, marker pens, batteries for the labelling machine] until my petty cash claim is refunded to me. It is all too easy to forget, or not to bother, to claim for small items, but over the school year it all adds up.
See, librarians are dead cheap. Few pathetic quid, in cash, and they're overwhelmed with joy.
Sep. 9th, 2009
08:47 pm - Meanwhile, back at the Pit
Today was the third day of our new school year.
I greatly enjoyed my summer break but somehow I hardly feel I've been away.
In spite of my new year's resolutions to be nice and not to lose my temper I chucked two kids out at lunchtime today. One for blatantly swigging coke from a bottle in the computer room where food and drink are forbidden and the other for being generally rude, loud-mouthed, and noisy. And argumentative when asked to stop.
To our delight the maths department have a new recruit, a guy of such stunning good looks that it's quite breathtaking. He's tall and dark and gorgeous and, best of all, not actually young enough to be my child. The entire female population of the school are more than a little in love. He seems quite unconscious of his charms which of course only adds to the attraction. What is he doing here? How come he's a teacher, and a maths teacher at that? I'm smitten. Black Pit is all agog.
After lunch three girls, new sixth formers, come in. One is very carefully carrying a take-out coffee cup. We don't allow food in here at all or any drinks except for plain bottled water.
"I'm really sorry, you can't bring coffee in here, could you go out until it's finished, please" I say, hoping not to sound too mean.
She looks at me in surprise and says, in genuine innocence
"Oh, it's not coffee, Miss, it's hot chocolate. Is that OK?"
Jul. 20th, 2009
09:51 pm - Slavery, dvds, interior design and this is the end, my friend....
Slavery
My predecessor, Mrs Barker, was very 'right on' and she spent oodles of book-fund on books about black history, slavery, civil rights and all sorts of ethnic minorities. They are all classified in American History, at 973. Of course.
Dewey puts them all over the place, there are loads of possible class numbers and a check of other libraries' catalogues doesn't help as they've all chosen different approaches, some going up to nine decimal places in the process. Great.
I shuffle the pile of books around in a vague attempt to bring order to this chaos, then hide them while I have a think.
DVDs
Because it's the end of term teachers have given up working already and keep coming into the library to borrow films to show to their classes, or sending the kids down to choose one.
Some teachers are maintaining the pretence of teaching and ask for films with some relevance to their subject. This is a challenge. Our dvds and videos were all bought on the cheap, or donated, and tend to be comedy or adventure fiims for the kids to enjoy.
Nope, sorry Miss. I don't have a movie on the theme of global warming and fair trade for your bottom-set geography group. Honestly.
Interior Design
Rashly we have decided to move some stock around, which entails moving shelving. This wasn't acutally my idea. I warned against it, but was out voted. Wehave spent a dusty couple of days boxing up books, dismantling shelving, moving shelving, reassembling shelving and unpacking boxes of books. I am tired and dirty and have a row of bruises up the inside of my arm from lugging armfuls of books.
I do have, grudgingly, to admit that the library looks better and our line of sight down the stacks is much improved.
OK, it was worth it. Maybe.
The End
The end of the summer tem, and indeed the entire school year, is nigh.
The kids are playing cricket, rather than football, at break and lunch. Spirits and tempers are running high and fights keep breaking out. There have been several incidences of backpacks and bags being fastened to the perimeter fence with bike locks. Two small boys from Year seven have been caught on the CCTV pouring what turned out to be urine from a plastic bottle into other kids' bags and coats. Lovely.
I am weary and looking forward to the summer break with great anticipation. See you next term!
Jul. 1st, 2009
08:32 pm - Compare and contrast
Early this morning there was an electrician in, along with our Site Services Manager. Showing my age here, but when did school Caretakers vanish and get replaced by these guys? Anyhooo...they were banging about with cables and fuses and switches and routers and servers. I was warned there would be drilling and banging and to expect my power to go off briefly. I got the guys to warn me though, so I could shut my PC down and sort my back-ups rather than have it crash. Phew.
Miss Holland from Modern Languages came in with a sweet little girl with a heavily plastered leg and crutches. Miss Holland is nice. She asked if her pupil was OK to spend some time with us, handed over work for her, gave me a copy of her timetable marked up to show which classes were upstairs and thus out of bounds and added a note showing me where she'd be teaching in case of questions. I warned them about banging and drilling going on, but we all agreed it'd be OK. She thanked me for my help, I thanked her for being so well-organised and anticipating all eventualities. All well and good.
A little later a very important Head of Department bustled in, ignored me and failed to respond to my slightly pointed "Good morning!". She looked around and announced "Yes, this will do. We'll sit in here" and three women wearing visitors' badges followed her and they all sat down.
Almost at once Mrs Worry followed them in bearing a tray of tea and biscuits. She smiled nervously at me but failed to respond to my mouthing "Who the hell are they?" at her as she passed.
I decided that as I was too lowly to be spoken to or introduced I'd better show proper respect and not speak to these VIPs or interrrupt them to point out that drilling and banging would soon start up again. It duly did and Very Important Head of Department had to yell over the noise to be heard.
I just sat smug and eavesdropped and pinched the biscuits as soon as they left.
I realise the above most likely makes me sound rude and petty and something of an arsehole. I know, but I don't actually care.
At lunch time I cruised around the computer suite where lots of small boys were playing online games.
"Look at this, Miss! It's the best game in the entire world, ever!" said Dean, excitedly glued to some animated blobs and arrows.
"Ahhh!" I said, trying to sound interested, "What's it called, then?"
"Dunno" [shrug] "But it's well wicked, Miss!"
Jun. 17th, 2009
04:55 pm - Anyone got a big knife or an axe? A sharp pointy stick? Any weapon?
Gorgeous bright sunny morning.
I bounce into the library bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to see a group of girls, one of them weeping rather hysterically, being bundled hastily into our office by a senior teacher.
"Can you please look after them for a minute while the police are called?" he looks grim.
"Has there been a fight?" I ask, warily.
"Nope, flasher on their way in to school, poor kids" he hurries out.
Gingerly I open the office door. There are three girls. Amber is still crying and being comforted by Scarlett, Jade sits in silence, head down.
I don't know what to say but I proffer tissues and offer to make them cups of tea. They ask for water so I fetch a jug and cups and another box of tissues.
There is much self-important to-ing and fro-ing of senior staff and then a police-car rolls up outside. I gather that two of the three saw the flasher, the other is their friend who they call for on their way to school. I am asked if I can be spared from librarianising to sit in as witness and chaperone to one of the girls while a police officer interviews her in Mr Head's room. The hysterical girl is to be interviewed by the only available female officer.
I go to Mr Head's room where I ask Jade if she is happy to have me there. She nods silently, sitting hunched up and hiding behind her hair. The policeman is fairly young and kindly. He explains to us both that he wants Jade to tell him what happened so basic details can be sent out quickly, that he will then write up her account for her to sign as her statement and that I will be asked to sign this as a witness to the interview. His manner is very matter of fact, but friendly and Jade perks up a little.
She speaks up well for herself, sounding confident and increasingly angry as she comes to terms with what happened. She describes how she and Amber were walking along the edge of the local housing estate, next to the woodland park, when a white van passed them. She thinks the driver may have whistled at them, but the sound may have been squeaky brakes. The van passed them again, going the other way, then when they drew level with the entrance to the car-park it was stopped, the driver stepped out from behind the open door and exposed himself.
The policeman radios the basics to his control room. Jade doesn't recall a number plate, or know what make of van it was. The policeman does rather good cartoonish sketches showing outstanding features of common makes of van but it doesn't help. He starts to talk her through the details of her account, writing notes as she tells her story again.
"So, you were walking up Woodside Avenue, towards the shops?" I nearly interrupt, that's not what Jade told him.
"No" she says, firmly "We were walking the other way, towards school"
I realise he is making sure she sticks to her story and is neither confused or easily swayed into contradicting herself.
When he reaches the difficult part of the events I am impressed by his manner and the way he gets the facts out of Jade.
"OK, this is the difficult part. I'm sorry I have to ask you this" he says, "I'm going to ask you some yes or no questions, OK?" Jade nods.
"Did the man expose his private parts to you, that is: could you see his penis?"
"Was he excited, I mean did he have an erection...do you understand what I'm asking you?"
"Was he touching himself?" "Was his hand moving?" "Rapidly?"
Our nice policeman's written account records the man as having exposed himself, fully erect and masturbating without Jade having to say the words herself. He writes up the statement and gives it to Jade to read though, approve and sign and then to me. He tactfully withdraws from the desk and speaks on his radio again so we have to chance to speak and I ask Jade if she is sure she is happy with the interview and with her statement. I tell her to come and see me later if she wants to talk again, that I will happily give her a lift home and that she can hide in our office if the attention and gossip around school get too much, either today or later. The policeman thanks us both and promises to relay any news
I am left feeling very impressed by Jade's bravery and dignity but indignantly angry.
I feel like getting up a lynch mob and going on the rampage.
Jun. 5th, 2009
09:14 pm - That's good....that's bad...that's brilliant!
Good?
I went to school today in a new summery white linen top and got lots of flattering comments. A rather attractive nice colleague whose clothes I always admire assured me I don't look even close to my age. She says I have good skin, a welcoming attitude and a youthful habit of bounding up and down the stairs rather than plodding like an older lady librarian. I walk about in a happy glow of self-satisfaction.
The bad?
Seduced by flattery I agree to allow a thoroughly unpleasant boy do some work on one of our PCs while the TA who is his usual 'minder' helps out in the classroom. He has a text-book on Cubism and an essay to write but immediately starts playing games on the computer. To my annoyance he is joined by another pain in the arse who is illegally out of his lesson. We call for the senior member of staff on patrol to sort him out, but no one shows up and he is refusing to budge.
Miss Bronte from the English department has a huge class out in the computer suite where not all of the machines are working. She asks nicely if she may send some sensible trustworthy kids out to work on our PCs, and they quietly get stuck into their task.
My two pains, meanwhile are getting noisy and sillier by the minute. I phone Cubism's TA over in the teaching block and she says it's his look-out if he fails to complete the work. I remind him yet again of the need to do his essay.
"Whatever..." he says, glued to his game.
He and his neighbour have a short burst of squabbling which makes me look up from my work to tell them to be quiet. One or the other of them reaches over and flicks off the switch that controls the power to all of the library PCs so they all go off at once. Miss Bronte's pupils all groan and protest as an entire lesson-worth of work vanishes. I take them out to see her to explain it's not their fault.
The brilliant?
As a result of the above we realised we had, at last, a guaranteed watertight copper-bottomed excuse to ban two of our least favourite characters from the library.
Result!
May. 19th, 2009
04:08 pm - Awwww....thanks guys!
Me: [being my usual tactless, rude and thoroughly unprofessional self] "I probably shouldn't tell you this but..."
Kid: "That's what we like about you, Miss. You tell it like it is"
May. 11th, 2009
10:20 am - It was Monday all day today
Emails first thing today included a request from a history teacher for an article from an academic periodical, something that is sadly unusual for Black Pit.
I was surprised, but got onto my little network of contacts in other local libraries. No success. Tiny wee alarm bells began to ring. It's entirely the wrong time of year for A-level Coursework project research and the topic of the requested article is not on the exam board syllabus. I began to wonder if this was a bit of private research and nothing much to do with Black Pit at all.
I wrote a very fawning email to the nice Schools Liaison Librarian at our nearest university library, thanking her once again for the very helpful and enjoyable visit we made earlier in the year with some sixth form students and just happening to wonder if a copy of the article could be sent to us, or if a temporary Athens login might be forthcoming. After all, it is just the one little, insignificant item....
Then there came a thrilling bit of gossip. At last the Black Pit thief has been caught on CCTV, helping himself to a purse out of a girl's bag. To everyone's shock it's a really nice kid, a former pupil, who is now at the local college but has been allowed to sign in as a visitor to see teachers for extra help and to catch up with old friends. The police have been called in and the family are going to be absolutely horrified. So sad.
The kids signing in at break are highly amused to see that 'Barack Obama' had apparently been into the library and a good-natured competition begins to come up with famous celebrity names to put on the sheet when I pretend not to be watching. 'Beyonce' has been in, together with 'Lady Gaga'. They have to tell me who this one is, though.
The nice Librarian at the uni library gets back to me, thanking me for my kind words but passing me onto the Inter Library Loans department. They want paying. It'll be £10.00. I pass this information back to History.
Apr. 27th, 2009
09:41 pm - Summer Time, and Black Pit isn't easy, the kids are jumpy, these two have got high...
Officially it's the summer term now. Things should be quietening down in the library as coursework deadlines pass, kids go off on study and exam leave and the nicer weather means they're spending break and lunchtimes outside. We have happily filled the diary with bookings for the library to be used for exams come May and June.
Forthcoming exams and coursework deadlines make for nervous and bad-tempered kids. Many of the usual suspects show up in the library claiming they have work to finish or to print out but using this as an excuse to bunk off lessons. We are caught up in budget-wrangles and our Head of Department's constant questions about our planned expenditure for next year. Do we really need to buy any more books? After all, our shelves seem fairly full....*head-desk
Mid-afternoon a TA comes in with two boys. One holds a wodge of blood-soaked paper towel and a bag of ice to his nose.
"Have you been fighting?" someone asks him.
He lurches about helplessly.
"He's sniffed something" says the TA, shortly. She has been put in charge of the pair of them until the bell goes for the end of school and they can be sent off the premises. The two of them are totally incapable, high as kites, giggling and staggering, their eyes rolling and unfocused and their speech slurred.
Black Pit will not ever, under any circumstances, admit that drug or alcohol use might take place in school.
Heads are tuning in the library, which is full of sixth formers. The TA apologises to me and, after several attempts, gets the boys into the room next door. I fetch more paper tissues and a jug of water and cups. When I return nose-bleed boy is drawing on the wall in dribbles of snotty blood.
I leave them to it.
Apr. 2nd, 2009
08:30 pm - In Which Mrs Worry Worries Me
Today I was visited by Mrs Worry, accompanied by Mrs Fielder, who is a PE teacher of the more bullying and sarcastic kind and who usually ignores me.
"I was telling Mrs Fielder how your photographer friend helped me out with those photos" says Mrs Worry.
She has the excited air of some unpopular little geek who is suddenly in the good books of the cool kid.
"Yes, I gather you have a helpful "friend" " says Mrs Fielder, her tone suggesting that I am the lucky owner of a sugar daddy or a hot secret lover.
"Do you think you could get the face of a kid blurred out in a picture?"
"What, sort of Photoshop a paper bag over their head?" I ask, rather incredulous at this request.
"Well, Mrs Worry has taken some good sports team pictures, but they all seem to feature some stupid kid whose stupid parents won't let them appear on the website" she says, the usual contempt back in her voice.
Alarm bells start to ring. Somehow I don't think this is what parents expect when they deny permission for photos to appear on-line. Also, many of these families are Asian Muslims - do we really want to make it look as if Black Pit disguises their kids in school pictures?
"I'd have no idea how to do that" I say "And I think you'd need fancy software, which I don't think I can access here and I don't have at home, the resizing was done in Paint".
"But how about your "friend"? Couldn't your "friend" help?" Now Mrs Fielding's tone suggests that I don't really have friends, only aquaintances, most likely dodgy ones.
Well, I think that might be asking a bit much" I say, firmly.
"Oh, I see. Perhaps your "friend" isn't so clever" says Mrs Fielding comtemptuously, her tone implying that any friend of mine is a mad axe-murdering pervert drug-dealer.
"Have you tried the IT department, or maybe art?" I ask stalling for time. And then a bright idea dawns.
"Did you run this idea past Mr Head?"
Mrs Fielding snorts and walks away, Mrs Worry looks at me sorrowfully and follows.
Mar. 31st, 2009
04:34 pm - Dewey Decimals or OCD? OCD or Dewey Decimals?
The vast gigantic huge library reclassification job has just reached the end of the 800s. By way of a treat I gave myself a break from this mammoth on-going task to process some new books into stock.
I get a nice rhythm going: scribble on back of library return date label with glue stick and attach label to book, peel off and stick bar-code label, insert Tattle Tape security strip. I usually delegate these tasks but at the moment we're a bit lacking in minions. Anyway, I enjoy doing it. Next there is pause to classify the book if it's non-fic.
Dewey. Sometimes so easy and straightforward, sometimes so difficult. It's a lurve thing.
A group of kids are using the library to video interviews about the death penalty. They ask me if I want to contribute.
"Killing people is always wrong" I say, firmly.
I am engrossed in a book about the design and artwork of the Lord of the Rings films.
"Is this a book about art and design, or a book about film?" I ask the room in general, more thinking aloud than expecting an answer.
There seems to be a split of opinion as divided as that on the death penalty.
Things get surprisingly heated.
I hold up my hand
"OK, thanks, be quiet you lot! We'll see what the oracle has to say about it"
I log onto the British Library Integrated Catalogue.
It's an art book. End of, as the kids say.
Mar. 17th, 2009
09:20 pm - Mrs Worry is worried. Part Two
Mrs Worry is, surprisingly, not a bad photographer and often produces remarkably good shots of sporting events and performances held at school. It was decided that the school website should show photos of kids in correct school uniform and full PE kit. Mrs Worry had the unenviable task of locating kids actually wearing correct uniform and who had up to date permission on file for their pictures to appear on the website. This took time and tenacity. Poor Mrs Worry.
She was so proud of being given this task and took it so seriously that she took the photos on her own rather nice digital SLR camera, brought in from home for the purpose. Then she saved the pictures to her school PC directly from the memory card but could not make them upload to the site.
I found out about this some time later, when Mrs Worry was in full panic mode and too scared to ask the IT technicians for help.
I went to her office and had a look at the photos, hoping to get a look at her camera too. It turned out that they were both going on for 4MB files. The website and mail systems will only load/send up to 2MB. I had no idea what to do, but I did know a man who might. I told her not to worry, I'd ask my good friend Mr H. who is kind, helpful and an excellent photographer.
"Can you ring him for me?" asked Mrs Worry
"No, I'll email him this evening" I said, instantly regretting this mistake.
Mrs Worry lives in fear of computers and the internet, being convinced that they are full of perverts and porn. Which of course they are.
"You won't email the photos to anyone, will you?" she pleaded. She was nearly wringing her hands by this point at the thought of some online nutcase accessing photos of anonymous Black Pit kids fully clothed in glorious polyester.
"Don't worry - the files are too vast to email, remember" I said, soothingly.
Sure enough, the ever-reliable and generally lovely Mr H knew what to do, and sent clear instructions, and I quickly managed to reduce the files to manageable sizes and insert the pictures on the website for Mrs Worry. She was very relieved.
"You didn't need to email the pictures, did you?" she worried.
"No, I just sent Mr H a link to the page to show him it all worked"
"Should you have sent photos of children to some...man?" she said, having another worry.
I pointed out to her that the school website is accessible to anyone who cares to look, a thought so worrying that she decided to ignore it.
Thanks, Mr H.
Mar. 16th, 2009
05:15 pm - Mrs Worry is worried. Chapter One.
Mrs Worry works in the general admin office and on the school reception desk. She worries about things.
Before we organised the delivery of our daily newspapers I used to worry her by running over to the corner shop to pick them up. She wanted me to sign out of the building and then back in again. I took to leaving via the side door and then returning through the main reception area, but then she worried that I seemed to be coming in late for work. If I just disappeared she worried that no one was on duty in the library.
Now the papers are delivered she worries that if they are left on the reception desk they might be taken by someone, so she brings them into the library, but worries that someone might read them before I arrive. Who knows what catastrophe might befall us all if a newspaper was read without the proper supervision of a librarian? I kept this thought to myself in case she made me write a risk assessment.
She recently had a little worry about my stationery order and brought it back to me, to point out that ordinary sellotape is a lot cheaper than the posh proper Scotch magic tape stuff that I had ordered. I showed her some spine labels stuck on with common or garden tape and how they'd gone all dry and crispy and fallen off. I showed her how I hide the tape dispenser with the expensive tape so that only I can use it, strictly for sticking labels on books. So that was all right, then.
Mrs Worry was horrified to find a couple of bottles of wine in the small fridge in the library office, along with the 'downstairs' milk, various staff packed lunches and some kid's spare insulin injection pack. She worried that children might see it.
Generally I find Mrs Worry more amusing than annoying, but she did manage to drive me to the edge with her daughter's homework. She had told anyone who would listen about this precious homework and how they could not make it open on their home computer. Rashly I offered to have a look and got Mrs Worry to mail to me over the school network. It opened in one go, a sort of newsletter thing about some history topic.
I showed the work to Mrs Worry on my desk PC and then on her own one in the office. I was baffled. I could only suggest one possibility:
"Do you have a different version of Publisher at home?" I asked.
"Well, that's just what the IT technician said when I asked him" she said slightly crossly. "I've already told him we don't have Publisher at home, but I thought maybe someone else could actually help me."
*sigh, roll eyes
Mar. 13th, 2009
11:19 am - Political correctness
Out on the corridor I meet Sophie, who has Down's Syndrome. Or maybe I should say 'Is a person with Down's Syndrome'? I'm not sure.
She is trailing along very slowly behind her Teaching Assistant who says:
"Hi Jen! Just taking the dog for a walk"
Which strikes me as breathtakingly rude, poor Sophie.
Sophie, who is usually smiley and cheery, blows a raspberry at me by way of greeting and is made to apologise by the TA. She then barks at me, and the light dawns that Sophie is pretending to be a dog. So the TA wasn't being so rude after all, but going along with Sophie, who is disgruntled that the Food Tech lesson she likes is a classroom-based theory session and there won't be cooking.
Although I remain unsure how I should describe Sophie, I have recently been told that children should not be described as 'mixed-race' any more. The correct term is now 'of dual heritage'.
The Black Pit kids themselves use 'racist' to mean any form of discrimination or unfairness, which is a bit confusing.
We had a large meeting going on the library. It was exam invigilators and moderators and was fairly confidential so I put up a sign on our door saying
Meeting in Progress
Library Open for
Sixth Form Study Only
"Miss, that is sooooo racist!"
"How is that racist? I am really sorry about it, but it's not my fault" I am taken aback.
"It is racist, and unfair and mean. That's just discrimination!"
"Well, I agree that it's annoying. Even that it's a pain in the neck. But I fail to see how it's racist" Does he know what racist means, I wonder?
The bell for end of break goes, so our philosophical debate comes to an end.
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